The Deal
by NyxonVyxen
Summary: An attractive deal made between Cosima, a college graduate, and Dr. Aldous Leekie, the CEO of a large company, forces an unconventional companionship between Cosima and her new (and rather unfriendly) boss, Dr. Cormier. The already tense relationship is complicated further when another, much shadier deal is made between Dr. Leekie and Dr. Cormier, that puts their lives in danger.
1. Canada

"Espresso for… Her Majesty Doctor Cormier?"

"That's mine! Thanks, uh…Rebecca," I throw a couple dollars in the tip jar and take the cup from a very confused barista.

"Sure. Have a good day, doctor…" the rest of her sentence is cut off and left inside the café as the door slams shut behind me. Why Dr. Cormier insists on getting a plain black espresso from a douche-ish café instead of using the espresso machine at the office is beyond me. I stole a sip of her espresso before and couldn't even tell the difference. Same deathly-bitter, pure-caffeine crap. Akin to her personality. I tried to switch her morning beverage out for the office espresso when I first started, but it didn't exactly work out.

"_Here's your espresso, boss lady," I present the alternate version of her drink. She takes it without even looking up at me, has a sip, and sets it down on her desk. I knew she wouldn't be able to tell. I sit down at my desk, a few meters from hers, and start to log into my computer. _

"_Cosima," I hear my name called in the same condescending tone she always uses. "I don't remember asking for a cup of hot water. Am I mistaken?" Her fingers never stop typing. As though being an asshole to me is just second nature. _

"_Dude, how could you even tell?" I whine at her, "We use the same espresso machine – same brand and everything," I get up to take the trick cup away and give her the espresso I bought on the way to work just in case something like this happened. I even asked for an extra cup while I was there to make it convincing. I put less effort into getting through college than I did for this stupid coffee stunt. Really, she should be flattered._

"_I may have had a harder time tasting the difference if you hadn't filled this with plain coffee instead of espresso". She hands me the drink and takes the other from my hand. I pop open the lid to confirm her accusation._

I never got the nerve to try again. I think about it every time I pass the stupid espresso machine on the way to her office, like I am now, but I always resist the urge.

"You're late," she says quietly, but assertively, from her desk. She used to be a little more bothered by it and occasionally lecture me, but now she just sighs at my incompetence.

"But I'm consistent," I say with a smile as I hand her the beverage. When she says nothing in return, I turn to go to my desk.

She sits right by her office door, inside and to the left, across from the window, and I'm stationed by the door to filter any visitors. There's technically a door between my desk and hers, a large door made with dark-shaded glass, but I've always kept it open so that the sunlight isn't tinted grey. It's fine because, where she sits, you can't see her from the door with the huge useless bookcase adjacent to her desk. I can just tell people she's out of the office. Nobody really wants to visit her anyway; if somebody shows up, it's either because they have no other choice, or because somebody else made them go in their place.

She's not necessarily evil, just cold and always looks like she's annoyed with your presence. She probably is. I've gotten used to it and it only makes it more fun to bother her. She doesn't get worked up too easily, but I find success in every raise of her voice and every glare of death she gives me. I feel like I've won a battle in our continuous war of dispositions.

"Sometimes I wonder why you applied to work at Dyad instead of following your obvious career path as a comedian". She comments as I step into her office to use the printer. I pluck the warm pages out of the tray and smile at her when I turn around. She's holding the cup up, displaying the title scribbled on the side.

"Ah, she wonders about me," I say dreamily as I return to my desk. I can't see her, but I can sense the eye roll that's happening on the other side of that bookcase. I've learned that the best way to shut her up is by flirting. She won't engage, even if it's completely obvious I'm being sarcastic. It also happens to be one of the best ways to irritate her. I try to not do it too often so that she doesn't get used to it.

"Please don't order my coffee under names you don't call me," she says just loud enough for me to hear. I called her Delphine a couple days into being her assistant, just joking around, and I thought she was going to strangle me. She prefers _Dr. Cormier_.

"As you wish, Your Majesty".

* * *

After the third meeting in a row, following Dr. Cormier around, taking notes, and making absolutely no noise, my muscles and mental functioning are starting to give in. I know she's aware of how fed up I am with this, and I think that's why she insists I do it. Maybe she is evil.

I am especially fed up with this kind of work because it's not even what I applied for. I applied for an internship in the labs. I have a goddamn degree, man. But no, I got talked into working with her. I would rather work with Dr. Leekie, the guy that hired me. Seemed like a pretty stand-up dude. Although, he was the one who convinced me to work with Dr. Cormier.

"_Would you be willing to participate in revolutionary, but controversial projects that require–"_

"_Sorry to interrupt! But could I borrow this young lady for a moment?" A tall, slim man peaks through the office door, halting my interview. _

"_Oh, uh…sure," my interviewer stutters, apparently just as caught off-guard as I am. _

"_Good, come with me, uh…" _

_I jump up and stick my hand out for him to shake, "Cosima Niehaus, PhD in Evolutionary Development Biology, eager to work!" _

_The guy shakes my hand and tries to hide his taken aback reaction to my introduction. I get that look a lot. "Eager is exactly what I'm looking for. Eager and willing…My name is Dr. Aldous Leekie, but please call me Aldous." He smiles and gestures down the hall for me to follow. "So, Dr. Niehaus…"_

"_Cosima, please. I'm proud of my status and everything, but I'm not too fond of my last name," I interrupt. He smiles at me like one would smile at a child who said a big kid thing. It's weird, but not fully creepy. _

"_Dr. Cosima?" He suggests._

"_God no, I'm not a douche," I scoff. "Oh shit, sorry…language…professional. Jeez I'm doing great so far," I smack my palm to my forehead._

"_Don't worry too much about that, Cosima. I'm fairly laid back. However, not everyone in this building is. Have a seat," he walks into a dimly lit office with what looks like two empty labs on either side, all enclosed by glass walls. His office is average-sized, but the two other rooms make it look huge. He closes the glass door behind me. I take the seat in front of the desk and he sits on the other side._

"_So, why exactly did you want to borrow me?" I finally ask the lingering question._

"_Well Cosima, there are a lot of students and graduates applying for an internship, and we only have several openings," I nod, slightly confused. "But I like you – you're unique and have a lively personality. I'd like to have you as an intern, but the people who hire the interns might not see things like I do. They go for the quiet, obedient type". _

"_Yeah, I can't say those things really describe me accurately…" I cross my legs, feeling pretty disappointed that I didn't even get to finish my interview before I was rejected. _

"_The good news is, I'd like to make a deal with you," I cock my head. "Our CFO, who is also our interim Department Director for the time being, is in need of an assistant. Her most recent assistant quit…as did her last three"._

"_Well, she sounds lovely so far," I comment sarcastically._

"_Yes, well, Dr. Cormier isn't the easiest person to work with. She is one of those employees that might not take your energy as something positive, like I see it. But I think your energy might just be the thing that could get you through working with her". He smiles nervously and I can tell he's really trying to sell me on this. _

"_What's the deal exactly?" _

"_Oh right! Well, she will only be interim Department Director for another seven or eight months. The woman we hired for that position will be moving here to take the job and Dr. Cormier will go back to just being our CFO. But for now, she does need an assistant. Cosima, if you could work for her, just until we get our Department Director, I will guarantee you a permanent position in the labs. Skip the internship. What do you think?" He blurts everything out so fast that I can barely understand him. _

_It's pretty much a no-brainer, but what if I can't make it the whole seven or eight months? What could be so bad that four people quit? I've worked around shitty people before, there's no reason I wouldn't be able to handle this lady. Maybe her other assistants were just too intolerant? She can't be that bad…_

"Hey Cos, could you tell your boss that Mr. Mitchell needs to talk to her when she gets the chance?" Shay, Mr. Mitchell's assistant, always prefers to walk to my desk to deliver messages instead of calling. She's cute. Definitely a talker.

"Of course, gorgeous. So, should we make out in her office while she's gone, or go find a utility closet?" She knows I'm kidding, but I get the feeling that she would take me up on any offer. She's got that desperate, but still chill look in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know. If their meeting is long enough, I don't see why we can't just go back to your place". She sits on the edge of my desk and crosses her arms, challenging me. It's not that I wouldn't take her home, I just prefer to be with someone for more than their physical attributes – and I haven't seen much more than physical attributes that I would consider appealing from her.

Before I can respond, we both hear a moderately loud closing and locking of a door. Dr. Cormier will typically close her office door when she's out, but rarely locks it. I don't have a key and sometimes she needs me to fetch something from her desk. She gives me a look that tells me she doesn't care how empty these offers may be, she will not tolerate her office being defiled. Shay and I are both silent until we can't hear the clacking of her heels anymore.

"Jeez, how do you work with her?" Shay whispers, even though Dr. Cormier is well out of earshot.

"Oh, when nobody is around, we laugh and sing together. It's a great working relationship. I call her _poo bear,_ and she calls me _sugar_". I always avoid those questions because I don't really know how to answer them honestly. Shay just rolls her eyes and blows me a kiss before leaving.

"_Dr. Cormier?" Aldous knocks lightly on her door, which is also mostly glass, but with an awfully gloomy tint. I inspect the shiny plate on the wall beside it, engraved 'Dr. Delphine Cormier, Chief Financial Officer'. There's another plate, not as spiffy, just below it 'and Interim Department Director'. _

_She must have responded because Aldous opens the door and gestures for me to follow. Her office isn't huge, but it sure is full of a lot of crap. When my gaze finally lands on her, I almost jump. She's sitting behind a glass-top desk, glaring at me like I just rifled through her underwear drawer. Although, looking at her, I wouldn't mind taking a peek._

_There's a squeak as she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. "What's this?" Her French accent is soft and sweet, but her words piss me off immediately. _

"_I'm actually a who, not a what," I defend, earning a smile from Aldous. She is not so amused. She looks me over for a moment, then back to Aldous._

"_What is this?" she asks, a little less annoyed for some reason. _

"_This is Cosima, your new assistant starting today. I think you two will get along well, so I will leave you to it," he turns to leave and, before either of us can say anything, the door is clicking shut behind him. _

_I can hear the woman exhaling with frustration, mumbling about Aldous with an impressive amount of restrained belligerence._

**Thwack!**

Dr. Cormier throws a pile of folders and documents down on her desk when she storms back into her office after meeting with Mr. Mitchell. She's mumbling a little more aggressively than usual, mostly in French, which I secretly love.

It's too bad she's such a dick since she's pretty hot. She has incredibly beautiful moments, especially when she's peacefully concentrating, and sometimes when she's really angry. That tall, lean body, too. She typically wears pantsuits, but occasionally comes to work with a pretty blouse and skirt. I've seen a couple new guys try to come on to her, but it doesn't last longer than a couple seconds.

"Are you listening?" I notice she's standing at the door, staring at me.

"Huh? I shrink in my seat a little, as if she may be able to read my thoughts.

"Elle rêve d'baiser cette blonde sur mon bureau," she mumbles as she goes back to her seat. What a potty mouth.

"I heard blond and desk!" I yell and follow her into her office. She knows that I can understand some French. Probably more than she's aware of. I can't understand her at all when she speaks fast but I can get the idea. She likes to comment on me a lot in French. They're not usually nice comments. "I'm sorry, I was distracted. What'd I miss?"

She looks at me with a harsh stare and I can practically see the steam whistling out her ears and nose. "Go home and pack. We're leaving this evening". She starts shoving folders into her laptop bag.

"What? Where are we going? And for how long?"

"Canada. Four days". I can see now that she's more frustrated about this trip than she is about my distraction.

"Dude, that's awesome. Where in Canada?" I discovered that I have a twin sister who lives in Toronto just a few years ago. I wouldn't mind visiting her and her daughter.

"In the Canada part of Canada," she deadpans, expressionless. I have to say, she is pretty witty when she wants to be. She wouldn't have said something like that five months ago, that's for sure. She would never admit it, but I think she likes having me as her assistant. I've never heard her joke with anyone else. At the very least, she's comfortable with me.

"_Do you have any secretarial experience?" She asks after I totally mess up her desk's organizational system. Still don't understand it. Good chance I'll mess it up again at some point._

"_No, ma'am," I keep my chipper tone. It annoys the hell out of her. _

"_Then why did you apply to be an assistant?" I can't even tell if she's upset. She's not surprised, I can tell that much. _

"_I didn't. I applied to work in the labs and then Aldous stopped my interview to tell me I should work for you," I summarize. _

"_Why does that not surprise me…" she mumbles as she starts to reorganize her desk. She always looks especially irritated when Aldous' name comes up. _

"_Hey, I've been wondering…why do you always call him Dr. Leekie? Surely he's said you can be casual or whatever and call him Aldous – he told me that when we met". _

_She shakes her head lightly, irritated, but a little less so than before. "I don't care to be casual with Dr. Leekie. There's no reason for me to be. We are not friends, we are barely even co-workers, and I don't like him," she probably didn't mean to say the last part out loud, but it's been established that I'm not really a gossip. _

"_Oh, so is that why you also prefer to be call–"_

"_Would you please answer that?" she interrupts, and I notice the phone's ringing._

I'm only ten minutes late when my cab pulls up to the airport, but I'm still scared of the reaction I'm bound to get. Since it's later in the evening, the airport isn't as packed as it usually is, and I spot Dr. Cormier in no time.

"Cosima, do you know why it's important to show up on time for a flight?" It's not the worst greeting I've received from her.

"Uhm, because if you don't, the plane flies away without you?" She snaps her fingers and points at me, as if to say, 'you got it'. I follow her through the luggage and security lines, and we wait a whole hour for our flight to start boarding.

"Hey, why'd you tell me to be here at ten if the flight wasn't until midnight?" I realize, looking at my ticket, as we're being seated. She only looks at me and raises her eyebrows. Yeah, yeah, I tend to be late. I guess that's why she didn't lecture me more this time.

I sleep for most of the flight, but Dr. Cormier stays awake to read or something since it's only a few hours. When we finally make it to the hotel, it's 4:30 a.m. and the night shift dude jumps when the doors slide open.

"We have a reservation for two queen rooms, adjoined". Dr. Cormier takes the lead obviously.

"What name are the rooms booked under?"

"I'm not sure, our company made the reservations. Euh, try Cormier," she spells out her name for him. It's kind of weird hearing her say she didn't know something.

"Delphine?" she nods, "Okay great, I have two adults, one room, two queen beds. Nothing here says adjoining rooms, though, miss". Maybe it's because she's tired, but she doesn't seem to care. She takes the key cards and we make our way silently to the room. The door-opening privilege is mine, of course. I take a quick shower while she unpacks her suitcase, and when I get out, she is already under the covers, deep in sleep. She is probably the prettiest when she's sleeping. I don't know why I thought she'd still be scowling while unconscious.

"_Well hello, chicken. I don't suppose I need to ask who you are?" The woman who opens the door smiles warmly, her accent overpowering. Jeez her eyes are bright, too. _

"_Hi, I'm–"_

"_Auntie Cosima!" I hear my name half a second before a little girl crashes into my leg and latches on. _

"_Oh, I thought I remembered Sarah saying something about having a monkey," I return Kira's awkward hug. We've been Skyping for a few months, but I just got the courage – and money – to fly up and meet everyone. _

"_Well come in, come in. Sarah's getting dressed. Why don't you have a seat and I'll bring you something to drink. Tea alright?" Siobhan looks so much like Sarah (and me, I guess). _

_When Sarah eventually comes downstairs, we're both stunned. We've seen each other's faces, but the whole picture right in front of us is much more authentic. We stare for a minute and then suddenly we're hugging and laughing for no reason. _

_I stay in Toronto for about a week and they show me around. Kira is such an amazing kid. I can't believe I have a niece! I can't believe I have family. Sarah was an orphan, too. Luckily, she had Siobhan and a brother – who I never get the chance to meet. It's so sad leaving, and Kira cries for a solid ten minutes, which doesn't help. I wait until I'm back on the plane to let a few tears fall._

Dr. Cormier's incessant and awful alarm starts going off around ten. There's a muffled groan and then a smack before the alarm is silenced. Of course, she would use some passive aggressive beeping sound to wake up. Maybe that's why she's so grumpy all the time. I wake up to music every morning because I don't want to hate myself as soon as I open my eyes.

I can hear her covers moving around and figure I should probably get up, too. I shove my glasses on my face, open my eyes, and immediately regret it. Just getting out of bed and heading toward the bathroom is a not-so-modestly-dressed Dr. Cormier. She's got a white tank-top and boy-shorts underwear. I throw my glasses back off and turn over in bed just as the bathroom door clicks shut.

The shower runs for a couple minutes and then the sink. I make sure that my eyes are closed tight the whole time, just in case she decides to come out naked or some stupid thing. She doesn't take long, and I hear her rummaging through the drawer by her bed soon enough. The sound of the drawer slamming shut makes me jump a little in bed. I curse loudly in my head, then re-position myself enough to make it look like she just disturbed my sleep.

"Oh merde, Cosima," I hear her whisper. I'm glad she was at least just unaware of my presence instead of flaunting her French perfection. It wouldn't surprise me if she was. She acts so stuck-up sometimes and I can't tell if it's just because she's French or just because she's an ass.

I stay "sleeping" for another forty-five minutes or so, hoping she'll fart or do something embarrassing, but she calls my name to wake me up eventually. I do my best to look like I'm just waking up, but I'm not sure how good my acting is. She's not paying attention anyway.

"So, what are we doing in Canada?" I ask after I've finished brushing my teeth.

She checks through her bags to make sure the things she packed yesterday didn't magically escape within the hours since she last checked them. "Well, seeing as you didn't ask until just now, I'm inclined to just not tell you at all". I know she's kidding, at least mostly, but jeez she makes it so hard to tell. She doesn't do the second half of the joke where you confirm everyone got it and _haha_ it's funny. I don't know if she's even meaning to be funny. Jesus this woman is difficult.

"Were you just trying to find an excuse to take me away for the weekend? You sly dog, you," I sass, then in my very worst French accent, "We have reservations for separate rooms, oh quoi, _zzzere's_ only one? I suppose _zzzat_ would be alright. Oh non, Cosima, we have to share a–"

My monologue is cut short by the loud slam the heavy door makes as Dr. Cormier leaves without me. I really want to wait here to see if she comes back to get me, but I know that would make her genuinely angry. I like to bug her, but I don't like making her upset. So, I grab my jacket and room key before bolting out after her.

The good news is, we are indeed in Toronto. I really should have just paid attention during the flight or just read my ticket. There's no way I'm passing the opportunity up to see my family when the transportation is paid for. We even rented a car. The bad news is, this really is a business trip and I have to do the same shitty things I always do, just in a different place. Dr. Cormier probably got less sleep than I did and she's still powering through. That's the benefit of being known as a grouch; she doesn't have to use a whole bunch of energy to seem nice. It's established that she's not.

We have a conference at the Dyad Canadian Division center at noon, then some dinner event at 4:00 pm. By 4:10 pm, I am too exhausted to go on. I find a seat to station myself at instead of conversing with dusty old men. If Her Majesty doesn't like Dr. Leekie, I don't see how she's putting up with all these people. Everyone's smiling. It must be killing her just to witness people being positive and courteous.

She's smiling, too, though – kind of. She's smiling the kind of smile that you can't really say is bitchy, but it's obviously bitchy. Considering I've never – _never_ – seen her smile sincerely, this must be more difficult than I can imagine. It's as I'm thinking about how hard she's working that I see it – the alcohol. This is probably why people believe in God. I quickly make my way over to the wine bar and grab two glasses as non-desperately as possible. I have the self-control to wait until I've sat down to drink. I set the second glass next to me so that it looks like it's not mine, ready to switch it out with the glass I'm emptying now. For a fancy event, it's not great wine.

I'm not entirely sure why I thought I could be happy for twenty minutes with some wine when my company is French. "Please tell me this glass is for me," she says with a desperation beyond any emotion I've ever witnessed come out of her.

"It's not, but you can have it," I barely finish my sentence before she's downing it shamelessly. She takes the seat next to mine and grimaces for a moment. I should have taken three glasses.

"This is disgusting," she stares at the empty glass like it's the culprit.

"Yep. Not the worst wine I've ever had, but not far down the list," I set my empty glass next to hers, along with my glasses so I can rub the fatigue out of my eyes.

"I didn't know you were a wine connoisseur," I catch her picking the glass up again automatically, then putting it back down once she realizes it's still empty.

"I know my way around a vinery," I sigh and put my glasses back on.

To my utter shock, just absolutely astounding, I look to my left and see a smile. And the smiler is Dr. Cormier. I don't know if she notices my eyes double in size or my voice shrink to nothing, but they do. When I hear a quiet, airy laugh, I know I've gone insane, or the wine was actually 100% alcohol, or I'm having auditory hallucinations because of my fatigue.

"Do you mean winery?" she asks, still smiling. I discreetly check my wrist's pulse. "Or vineyard?"

"What did I say?" My pulse is fine, but I think I feel dizzy or lightheaded or something. I can't even come up with a sarcastic remark. She's not really smiling anymore, but she doesn't have that vacant, depressing expression.

"Vinery," she looks back out at the flock of business people wondering around. "Shall we return to the hotel now?"

"Dear God, either that or kill me," my wishful thinking has me hoping for another smile, but all she does is get up and push her chair in. I follow her back to the parking lot, and she hands me the car keys. "I'm pretty sure a vinery is still a thing, though," I defend my earlier slip up. She looks back and shakes her head with an eye roll and, like, one eighth of a smile. Win.

* * *

The next day is pretty similar except the first big conference is at 9:00 am. We go to a presentation about expanding to cosmetics and genetically modified foods. It's so incredibly boring, as if they left out anything remotely interesting just for fun. However, it's entertaining to watch Dr. Cormier cross her arms, bounce her leg, and roll her eyes through the whole thing. Before they even started, she told me to not even bother taking notes or numbers for it. She's feisty.

"Before we go back to the hotel, we should find some decent wine to sneak into tomorrow's event. As much as I love being sober during those things–"

"Yes," she answers immediately, though I was mostly kidding. "Siri, the nearest liquor store, please," she orders her phone. It's adorable how wrong she can be with technology sometimes, especially when she seems so modern. She doesn't even have an iPhone, she just calls every digital voice Siri.

When we walk in, she looks more like an employee than a customer. She searches through the bottles like books in a library, thumbing through brands and colors. I just let her do her thing – she would be the best person to pick the wine anyways. She slides three different bottles off the shelf and, just as I think she's going to choose the best of the three, she sets them all on the register counter instead.

"Your total comes to C$163, miss," before I can verbalize my objection, Dr. Cormier is already handing over the cash. For no reason, it isn't until this very moment, five and a half months into my assistant-hood that I wonder what the hell she has a doctorate in. Accounting? Finance? Medicine? Scowling?

Dr. Cormier stores two bottles next to the mini-fridge, and the third bottle inside it, and without a word goes to the bathroom to change. She returns a few minutes later with the same white tank top, but this time full length sweatpants. I'm a little relieved but also a little disappointed.

"I thought you weren't supposed to put wine in the fridge?" I ask as she puts her day clothes back in the drawer.

"You're not, really. But I prefer to enjoy white wine chilled," I expect her to sound pretentious, but she sounds more like a child waiting for her parent to pay for the candy she chose. She's awfully excited for a treat that we won't have until tomorrow, though.

"Aren't you just supposed to chill it for a few minutes before you – oh," she ignores me completely and fetches the bottle from the fridge. "Do you plan to save any for tomorrow's bullshit, or are you just going to get hammered on all three tonight?"

"Well first of all," she pulls a goddamn corkscrew out of her purse, "There are no meetings tomorrow, the rest are the day after". _Pop_. "And secondly, maybe you don't know this, but I'm French. I've been drinking wine since I was ten. It takes more than three bottles to get me intoxicated enough to be considered 'hammered', Cosima".

Just as I'm about to hand her the paper cup that comes with the crappy coffee machine, she takes a pull, straight from the bottle and sits down at the table. "Jesus Christ, Cormier. It's weird enough seeing you not all dressed up. Do you have to throw in your secret alcoholism, too?"

She ignores me again, as it seems is consistent with the presence of wine. She closes her eyes after another sip and lets her head lean back against the wall. "I haven't had wine – real wine – in years. I can't believe how long it's been". She has that expression that's not a smile, but not her typical grumpiness.

I sit down at the table next to her and pour my little paper cup up with wine. "I don't want to sound too lame or stereotypical, but…why don't you smile, like, ever?" She gives me a look with her eyebrow raised. "_I'd_ like to see you smile more, you know, because you honestly look so–"

"Beautiful when you smile? Ouai, very original". She closes her eyes again.

I continue, despite her rather arrogant assumptions. "Because you look so unhappy all the time and it makes people feel uneasy. Being so grossly disconnected from expression isn't healthy," She opens her eyes again, but only looks down at her feet. "Don't worry too much about your reputation, I was still terrified of you when you smiled today for two seconds".

"So, I should just go around smiling at everyone all the time so that _they_ don't feel uneasy?" she shakes her head and takes another drink.

"Dude, no. I'm a selfish being, fuck everybody else. I don't care if your dying grandmother is begging you for a smile. I'd like them all to myself". I laugh at myself for a moment. I'm kidding for the most part, but I wouldn't mind feeling more at ease around her.

I feel my cup being filled again and look back at Dr. Cormier in time to see her down the last drop from the bottle. She looks a little wobbly, even sitting down, and her face has a slight pink tint. "Hey," I get her attention for a moment, "When is the last time you drank more than half a glass of wine?"

"Hmm, my twenty-seventh birthday, I believe". She closes her eyes once again and lets her head drop back to the wall with a thud.

"Do you think that maybe your alcohol tolerance has decreased a bit since then?" I poke her limp arm resting on the table. She doesn't react.

"Ah, maybe a little, but I'm not drunk". She opens her eyes and looks down at the spot on her arm I touched a moment ago, confused.

I giggle to myself and set my glasses on the table before gulping the remaining wine from my cup like a shot. I'm buzzed, but my alcohol tolerance is pretty high at this point in my life. I can feel her staring at me and, as much as I try to ignore it, the feeling keeps bugging me. When I glance in her direction, I can barely make out that she looks…focused. "What?"

"Without glasses, you look so…different…" it sounds like that sentence took a lot of effort to construct.

"Yeah, most people say prettier or less dorky," I look in the direction of the black blob that is my glasses.

"Not prettier, you're attractive both ways, just in a different way. You look…older maybe. More serious," her drunken description leaves me speechless.

"Jeez, okay. Well I think you're drunk enough for me to ask a favor…" I prepare for a fight.

"I'm not drunk," she defends, wholeheartedly.

"Of course not. So, the thing is, I have some family in Toronto, and it would mean the world if I could go see them tomorrow, especially if we're free all day". I think my point is convincing enough, but I don't know if she's a nice drunk, or an asshole drunk.

"That's fine. But you have to drive me to the shopping district after you're done," she slurs, and I'm worried she won't remember agreeing. I consider persuading her into signing something for proof, but she's already passed out in the chair.

* * *

"If you don't want to wait at the hotel, then just come with me and we'll go shopping or whatever straight from her house," I try to compromise with the slightly hungover blond. She takes a moment to assess her options but agrees eventually.

The drive takes us about forty-five minutes, during which Dr. Cormier is pretty much silent. I don't drive her around too much at home, but whenever I do, it's always quiet. It's not uncomfortable, though, I think it's because I know she's not expecting me to make conversation, maybe even hoping I don't make conversation.

When we park in front of the house, I pull out my phone to text Sarah, and then unlatch my seat-belt. I pause my door-opening midway when I notice Dr. Cormier not moving. "You coming?"

She gives me a look that makes me think that was a stupid question. "I'll wait in the car," she bites back, then pulls out her smartphone. I glare at her for a moment while she's not looking before closing the door and making my way up to the house.

"Cosima, love!" Siobhan answers the door and pulls me in for a warm hug.

"Hey S, I've missed you. You never join our video chats anymore!" Over Siobhan's shoulder, I see Sarah and Kira coming to join my greeting.

"Cos, my favorite long-lost identical twin sister," Sarah barely gets in before Kira is squeezing my waist and yelling my name. "So, what brings you up here?" Sarah backs up to let me inside.

"That lady pouting in the car out front," I say, pointing outside before Siobhan closes the front door. "I'm her assistant and she had to come up here for business".

"Why didn't you invite her in?" Siobhan keeps the door open as we all gawk at her. She's busy playing solitaire on her phone so she doesn't notice us.

"Oh, I did. She's not the warmest of people, though, so she opted to wait in the car". I explain to the house mother, who seems to be the only one still interested.

"Well, that just won't do. Kira," the little girl comes bounding back down the hall and halts at Ms. S' side. "You see that lady out there?" Kira nods, "She's Cosima's friend. Should we invite her inside with us?"

"Of course!" Kira's bubbly attitude reminds me of myself when I was younger.

"Well, she's shy, it seems. Do you want to see if puppy-dog eyes work on her?" Kira nods once before sprinting to the car. Sarah snorts from the living room while Siobhan and I just lean inside the door frame watching as an unsuspecting doctor comes under ambush. Using the children, I like it.

Kira knocks on the passenger window, making Dr. Cormier jump. The little girl doesn't give her the chance to even roll down the window. Kira opens the passenger door and grabs hold of the woman's wrist. We can barely make out what she's whining, "Won't you come inside, too? It'll make me sad if you stay out here all alone!" Dr. Cormier stutters for a moment, the most unprepared I've ever seen her, but doesn't get the chance to decline as Kira's pulling her by the sleeve.

I'm relieved that she doesn't just push Kira away and close the door. I'm not too sure how she feels about kids, but by the looks of it, she's not very happy. She actually looks kind of terrified. I was expecting a death glare, but she looks like she's being dragged through the enemy's grounds into a hostage cell.

"Auntie Cosima, you have a really pretty girlfriend," Kira announces as she and her hostage approach us. She's met a girlfriend of mine before through our video chats, so she knows my romantic preference. I wonder if Kira is just trying to be playful or if she is actually under the impression Doctor Frenchness is my special lady friend.

I see that I definitely have the upper hand here since Dr. Frenchness is still paralyzed and being dragged around by a little girl. I decide to take advantage of it and deal with the consequences later. "The prettiest," Dr. Cormier's attention finally comes to the conversation. "You don't think she's prettier than me though, do you?" Kira looks at me then back at Dr. Cormier for a minute. She turns to smile at me with an expression that says she doesn't want to answer. "You little…" I pick Kira up and throw her over my shoulder. She's laughing so hard she can't put up much of a struggle. Siobhan rolls her eyes and invites everyone inside finally. I reach behind me and grab Dr. Cormier's hand, "C'mon, Schnookums". To my surprise, she clutches my hand and lets me lead her inside.

"Thought blondie was your boss, Cos," Sarah comments from the couch as we all enter the room.

"Yeah, well Kira saw straight through us. What can I say?" I set Kira down and she launches herself onto Sarah's lap. Dr. Cormier still has a tight grip on my hand, and I can feel her trembling slightly. I don't know why this is so terrifying when she spends all day faking smiles with a hundred strangers for business.

"Tea alright for you two ladies?" Siobhan shouts from the kitchen. I answer yes for both of us since I'm evidently the only one still functional, and then guide her down to the couch where she hides her discomfort with amazing ineffectiveness.

After about forty-five minutes of idle chat and catching up, Dr. Cormier seems to be more comfortable. It could be due to the fact that she has completely muted herself from any conversation and is focused solely on her cup of tea.

"Alright, Monkey. I think it's time for a nap," Sarah departs to take Kira upstairs, leaving Siobhan with me and my awkward boss-girlfriend.

"So, Cosima love," S breaks the silence. "When did you start seeing…" she trails off as we all realize that I haven't even introduced everyone.

"Dr. Cormier, and…she really is just my boss," I'm nervous for some reason now. The kid is gone – the one person more powerful than Dr. Cormier. Can't bitch out and strangle your assistant when the offspring are present.

Siobhan nods and smiles at my couch-mate, "Well, it's lovely to meet you. I'm Siobhan Sadler, currently serving as mother hen to the two upstairs. Call me Siobhan or S if you like".

"Nice to meet you, ehm," the woman beside me stumbles over her words – a first for her that I've seen. "Please, call me Delphine," any semblance of ease that the woman had a moment ago is long gone after she finishes her sentence. She looks petrified.

"And those two upstairs are my recently-discovered twin sister, Sarah, and her daughter-slash-monkey, Kira," I finish and get a nod from _Delphine_. I wonder how many people actually get to call her by her first name. Certainly no one from the office, definitely not myself.

"Oh, it wasn't that recent," Sarah says as she walks back into the room. "It's been a few years since the orphans reunited". I snort and roll my eyes. Sarah likes to refer to us (and Felix) as 'the orphans.'

"Orphans?" I hear a timid voice beside me, "Is Siobhan not your mother?" Everyone is quiet for a moment, surprised that the woman actually made a sound on purpose.

"S is mine and Fe's foster mum, landed in her lap about nine years after jumping around the system. But Cos here, she got parents right off the bat". To someone else, it may have sounded resentful, but I'm well aware that Sarah doesn't really care. Siobhan has been a great mother to her, and she knows how lucky she is to have happened upon her.

"I think it must'a been my looks that lured Mr. and Mrs. Niehaus into this purchase," I gesture toward myself smugly.

"Yeah, right. I think we can admit who got the beauty genes and who got the brains, miss scientist". Sarah flips me off and Siobhan smacks her hand.

"Cosima, chicken, you have to come back sometime in the fall. Felix is always away in the summer," Siobhan redirects our conversation. I think she notices Dr. Cormier continuously checking her watch and is maybe trying to start an exit conversation. S is always so nice. I kind of want to apologize for bringing my boss along. She's so difficult.

"Next time I'll try to come in the fall," I smile awkwardly, prepared for the weird silence that's followed by a sigh and an _okay well I guess we should get going_, but Sarah beats me to it, God bless her.

"Well, can't miss you if you're still here. Go on and play with your microscopes and tubes or whatever you lot play with". Siobhan rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. We all exchange hugs while Dr. Cormier pretends to be comfortable standing by the door.

By the time we start driving again, it's about two in the afternoon. I didn't expect us to be there so long. I sigh and glance over at the shotgun occupant. She's quiet, staring out the window. I think she's biting her nails. I feel bad now, but her reaction was super unexpected. I feel like I need to make it up to her since she was drunk when she agreed to this. "Hey, how about we go out for a late lunch, my treat, and then we can go wherever. Sound good?"

She looks in my direction, not at me, and nods. I just can't tell what mood she's in. Honestly, she looks sad or tired, not angry. We stop for gas and I search for some French restaurant on my phone. Several are close to the shopping district she wants to peruse, all kind of pricey. I select the first one on the list and set the destination on the map so Siri (not Siri) can direct us there. Dr. Cormier is silent for the entire drive and it is killing me. I don't know how, but this silence is different from the silence at home. At home, she's all confident and arrogant and shitty ignoring me, but she's just not the same right now.

It's pretty quiet when we get to the restaurant. Our party doesn't exactly bring any change to the noise level. She orders a salad. We don't go out to eat very often, but she always orders a fucking salad. It's annoying until I get my plate of warm pasta.

"Your family is…nice," she says to her salad.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't think you'd literally be dragged in. Can't really argue with Kira, though".

"Kira?" she asks her salad.

"Yes, the shortest human we encountered on that visit…" I'm surprised she couldn't manage one name.

"The girl," she miraculously recalls. "Sarah is your twin. How do you know that you are twins?"

"Well, we're the same age, and we also look rather similar, wouldn't you say?"

"How did you find her?" she asks her glass of water.

"Ah, well my deal-…friend…my friend is a friend of her foster brother and Facebook and shit," she looks confused for a moment and it's a little bit adorable. "Facebook is a social media site that a lot of the youth like to involve themselves in".

"Thank you," death glare, "I'm aware".

I finish my pasta soon enough and wait for my card to come back with the receipt. Dr. Cormier won't stop eyeing her watch. "So, why no meetings today? They figure everyone deserved a break, or is tomorrow just going to be that awful that we needed a day to prepare?"

"There are presentations today, just none that are relevant to us apparently".

"Ah, okay. So, shopping it is. Where are we going?" I shove the card back in my wallet and we head back to the car.

"I'd like to just go back to the hotel," she says tiredly. We get in the car and she closes her eyes. I really do feel bad now.

"Look, I didn't mean to wear you out with my family. I can carry all your shit and do all the work with shopping. You don't have to do anything, I promise," I can't believe I'm begging her to shop.

"Cosima, it's fine," she says in a tone that doesn't entirely indicate that it's fine. "I just wanted to occupy my time somehow, I really don't like shopping that much. I'm just tired, please go back to the hotel". She speaks softly, like she's not trying to make me feel bad for once. More so even – like she's attempting to make me not feel bad. It's weird. I decide to just drive before things get weirder.

_I think I was less nervous for my first date than I am now. A day trip to Rochester was a little daunting when I was informed about it, but it wasn't going to be any longer than my usual workday. However, I did not anticipate a meal at a sit-down restaurant with my new boss. New-ish. A month is still new, right?_

_She orders a salad and it makes me feel a little bad about my choice of sandwich and fries, but whatever. She's still just as talkative here as she is in the office. It's normal at the office, though. Here, it's awkward. "So, why did all your other assistants quit on you?" I ask boldly. That's got to break the ice. _

_She gives me a look that I can't really place. "I'm not always as amicable as some people apparently require for a boss"._

"_Why do you need an assistant? Didn't you used to not have one at all?"_

"_That was before I was forced into taking an interim position that I didn't ask for. All the tedious work you do, I used to do. I no longer have time for it, so now you're paid to do it". She is definitely feisty, but I can't tell if she's directing her resent at me or whoever forced her into the position. I just nod. _

"_Why's the CFO need to travel around? Don't you just…well I guess I don't really know what you do…" she rolls her eyes. It wasn't a purposeful attempt at irritation, but I'm still taking the win._

"_The CFO doesn't usually travel around. The Department Director, however, makes many political and social trips. It's been a waste of time since the phone was invented". _

_She isn't wrong. It does seem pointless to come all the way down here and talk about stuff that could have easily been done over the phone or in an email. Additionally, she's not the friendly type of businessperson that you enjoy a visit from every now and again…_

"Just out of curiosity, are you going to buy even more wine for tomorrow, or just give up, drink it all by six o'clock, and forego intoxication after the night is over?" I take the empty bottle and throw it away. There's only one left and she is eyeing it like water in a desert. Little scary.

"J'ai une question, Cosima," she slurs. I hum in response, barely paying attention. I can't find a channel on the television that I like. "Your sister, she said you are a scientist. What did she mean?"

I scoff, confused by the question. I applied for a lab position at a scientific research facility. What does she think it means? "I think the doctorate in Scientist-ing has something to do with it. Just a shot in the dark".

She glances at me with an expression that kind of looks like she doesn't believe me. "You have… If you have a doctorate, why the hell are you working as an assistant?"

I sit down at the table next to her, every other entertainment option exhausted. "I've told you before. I applied to work in the labs, but Dr. Leekie just showed up during my interview," I recite the whole memory to her to the best of my ability. She seems to grasp the main plot.

"What an odd encounter," I nod as she thinks it over more than necessary. "But he said that he liked you after just a few moments. How could he have known anything about your personality at that point?"

"I don't know, man. I figured he was just making shit up to get me to work for you," she's not really pissing me off, but she has a lot of hostility with Dr. Leekie that seems unwarranted.

She nods, but not really in a way that says she understands. "It's strange, Cosima. You need to be careful around him. You worry me more often than not," she says as her eyelids start to droop.

"It's so sweet that you worry about me," I click my tongue and shake my head as she opens her eyes to glare at me. "It's just…you're my boss. This obsession with me simply isn't appropriate," she usually exits the conversation once I get flirty, but today she's not backing down.

"You should listen to me, Cosima".

I sigh and roll my eyes, "Dr. Cormier, when was your birthday?"

She gives me an ugly look, "November 12th. Why?"

"Year," I roll my eyes.

"1980".

"You are only four years older than me. Why should I take your advice as gospel? You're not my grandmother. You don't have eighty plus years of life experience". She gives up then, rolling her eyes back at me and attempting to get up. Her attempt fails, though, and she almost face-plants. I catch her like a bag of flour, and she clutches onto my arms for a moment. I get the feeling she's going to vomit down the front of my shirt and so I brace for it, but it never comes.

She seems to have enough of a grip on herself to pull herself up to a mostly standing position. I can see her ogling the bed, so I try to guide her in that direction. We're almost there, just a couple feet, when she decides to trip over her own damn briefcase and hit her head on the bedside table.

"Jesus Christ, Cormier," I yell automatically before crouching over the heap of a woman and adjusting her so she's sitting. "Don't fucking die on me". She groans and brings her hand to the side of her forehead where blood is starting to trickle down her cheek.

I grab a washcloth and a cup of water from the bathroom and return to the injured woman. I think she's already passed out, though. Actually, that might be better if I'm going to tend to her forming lump. I set the cup down and try to find a place next to her on the floor to sit. The beds are too close together though so there's not enough room. I straddle her limp legs instead, attempting to clear away the blood from her face and now neck. It is so tiring though, and even though I'm not as drunk as her, I don't have the strength to do it. I lower myself to her lap instead, hoping she's too drunk to notice or care, but she wakes up a little. I ignore her for now and just work on the blood surrounding her wound. I'm not a _medical_ doctor, but I figure wiping a rough washcloth over a fresh gash wouldn't feel good.

"Band-aid?" I ask in case she's at all conscious. She nods in the direction of her purse, so I fetch it and dig around until I find a little plastic case with bandages and some antibacterial cream. She's always prepared, can't deny that.

When I return to her again, I opt for the non-sitting type of straddling since she's more aware now. I stick the bandage in my mouth while I try to position her hair back far enough that I won't be sticking the bandage onto it. That would suck when she has to take it off and I'm sure she would blame me and make me pay somehow.

Out of nowhere, I feel her hands push against my waist, presumably guiding me down again, which I comply with hesitantly. She has kind of touched me before, but just the professional kind like a tap on the arm or a light slap on the leg when I'm being impatient in meetings. This is very different, whole new level, unexpected, and a little unexplainable. Well, no. I guess she is drunk. She mumbles something I can't understand, and I don't try to either. I just continue doctoring her drunken injury.

I really don't know if I should take her to the hospital or not. She didn't hit her head super hard, it just scraped enough to bleed, but I don't want it to be my fault if she has a concussion and ends up with major brain damage because I didn't feel like going back out. She's tired anyway and wouldn't be easy for doctors to deal with when she's drunk. I take a calculated risk and just help her into bed. We'll see how she's feeling tomorrow.

* * *

Our last day of meetings and last day in Canada starts out with some light rain, but an unpleasantly murky sky. Dr. Cormier is still sleeping so I decide to take a shower before she gets up. Throughout my entire morning routine, showering, dressing, teeth-brushing, I am incredibly anxious that she's actually just dead. God, the paperwork I would have to endure.

When I exit the bathroom, she's already finished dressing. She's sitting on the side of the bed, cradling her skull. I can't even imagine waking up to a hangover and head trauma combination. She sure is handling it better than I would've. After a moment of observing her, I start to pack her things since we're checking out this morning before any meetings or presentations. It's only then that she notices my presence.

"What are you doing?" she turns to watch me but doesn't move.

"Picking up your slack, boss. Take it easy right now, okay, because I don't have the capability to pick up your slack when we get into those hordes of men". She nods and squeezes her eyes shut again. The little that I brought with me is already packed and it doesn't take me long to gather her crap. I hand her the briefcase that was her demise last night and head to the door.

"Don't forget your pills, Cosima," she calls after me while she attempts to stand. I look back at her confused before I see what she's talking about.

"Those are for you. Duh," I roll my eyes. I left some pain reliever and orange juice next to her bed. I thought it was pretty obvious, but I guess not. Jeez, I thought she already took those, too, so she must still be in full pain mode. She can't be that socially inept. Can she?

"For me?" She looks back at the pills questioningly.

"Yeah, I'm not the one who got hammered and smacked my face on a table," I explain and start towards the door again. I stop when I remember something, "By the way, how much do you remember from last night?"

She takes the pills and chugs most of the orange juice. She doesn't answer for a moment, thinking I presume. "I hit my head, at some point you asked me where to find bandages, I was…mad at you for some reason, and then I think I fell asleep".

"That's about it," I decide not to recap the whole lap incident. It could have been nothing.

We soldier through the slimy continental breakfast and then we're on our way to the center of town for our first presentation, surely riveting. It's not very far from the hotel, but the morning traffic leaves us a bit bored in the car.

"Hey, I had a question for you," I try to start casually since I know she isn't big into conversation. She murmurs a response that indicates she's listening. "You don't really strike me as the roommate type of person, but you seemed perfectly fine when the dude said we were sharing a room. I was totally fine with it, I don't hate the human race, but I was wondering why you were cool with it?"

She looks at me with a brow raised. I can't tell if she thinks I'm nosy or…I don't know…she's too hard to read. "If you must know, I spent most of my youth living with roommates. I was in boarding school from an early age," she explains in a tone that tells me she isn't going to explain further. She looks back out the window and tries her best to ignore me. Her answer sufficed for me anyway. Boarding school, though, that's interesting. I've never known anyone whose been to boarding school and I've always thought it was more of a punishment for bad kids, I guess. She doesn't seem like she was a bad kid though. I glance over at her again, this time with a new perspective. Maybe there's a good reason for why she is the way she is.


	2. Dude

_Rose comes into my room after knocking once. She isn't very nice, but she isn't the meanest of the women who work at the academy. Aurelie is already in class and Camille left earlier, so I have the room to myself. I'm reading the book my father gave me when I was a toddler, before I could even read, L'Étranger, when Rose sits herself on the end of my bed. She has a sad, yet irritated expression that makes me nervous. When she tells me that she has bad news, my nervousness turns into something closer to terror. Irritated and bad news, it's not a good combination._

_When she finally leaves, the sadness that showed on her face is almost completely gone, taken up by the irritation now. I want to be sad, but the way she looks at me makes me feel like she would just be more irritated if I was. At least I get to stay at the academy, I think to myself. Not everyone is so lucky. I go back to my book. Though, I can't seem to read any further at the moment._

Cosima takes the hint and doesn't press the conversation further. What she lacks in silence, she makes up in intuitiveness. The presentation doesn't start for another hour, so we have plenty of time to be stuck in traffic. I'm not entirely sure if Cosima just doesn't want to listen to music, or if she is being considerate, but she keeps the radio off, and it is the only thing saving my head from bursting. Remembering the gesture earlier this morning, I am more apt to believe that she is being considerate. When I saw the pill bottle and juice sitting on the nightstand, I didn't think anything of it aside from the fact that I wanted some. I wonder if Cosima is always considerate and I just don't notice. It wouldn't be out of character for me to let those observations slip.

When we get to the convention center, I notice it's the most crowded presentation we've attended so far. Although there are various companies sending in their employees for these conferences, Dyad takes up the majority of the presence. Today seems to be fairly equal between the companies, though. At least that's what the color-coded sections make it look like.

Cosima and I find our seats in the auditorium after signing in and she plays on her phone until a woman takes her place on the stage. Our first guest is introduced, and everyone claps unenthusiastically. The presentation is unbearably long, and I wish I had a drink. I wonder if Cosima was on to something when she called me an alcoholic. Oh well.

When the presentation finally ends, everyone applauds with a different kind of unenthusiastic commotion and exits the auditorium with relief. Cosima seems to be in a constant state of eye-rolling. It's entertaining, but I would never let her know that. I don't know why, but I feel like I need to keep quiet about how much I am content with her company. Not always. She takes every chance she can get to irritate me. I've never worked with someone so gutsy. I think that's why I feel more comfortable with her. I can be myself because she doesn't stand down, doesn't cower like my previous assistants. I'm well aware my personality isn't described as…friendly, and I realize that I am probably hard to work with, but she finds joy in poking at me. It's a price I'm willing to pay for the same assistant showing up every day.

My thoughts are halted when I see a familiar ugly face at the end of the hall. I start to approach him and Cosima eventually follows. He looks at me when I get close enough, first an expression of panic, and then, not a split-second later, it turns to one of kindness. A terribly convincing forged kindness. I'm not fooled. I wonder if Cosima is.

"Dr. Cormier, Cosima, how are you ladies liking the conference? Anything catch your attention so far?"

I am about to speak, but I forget Cosima's more decent opinion of him, thus kinder attitude, "Dr. Leekie! Dude what's up, I thought it was just me and Cormier coming from our region?"

"No, of course not. There are a few other people from our specific location, but the numerous facilities in our region also have representatives here".

"Then, why did Cosima and I have to–" I start but am cut off.

"Sorry, Dr. Cormier. My presentation is about to start, so I've got to get in there soon." He smiles to Cosima, and then a little less to me.

"We don't get to see your presentation?" Cosima buts in, and for once I'm grateful for it. "What's it about? What're we missing out on here?" She has a playful tone, but I can feel a mild suspicion rising in her voice. Good.

"Oh, uhm," he stutters. His unpreparedness is interesting. "You know, if you go to Debbie at the sign-in table, she could probably get you some guest passes. It's nothing that ground-breaking, though. We're just presenting our findings from our most recent shared project. It's all jargon and science talk, it would probably be boring for you ladies. But anyway, I have to go," he rushes into the amphitheater behind him.

"Science talk?" I mumble to myself. "Has he seriously just completely forgotten?"

"Forgotten what?" Cosima says beside me and I jump slightly, already forgetting she was there.

"Oh," I mumble again and start to head for the table he directed us toward. "I'm fine with 'science talk', actually I quite enjoy it. I would rather listen to that than the business propositions and expanding details from the larger part of our own presentations".

"Dude, I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff," she says with a smile. I used to hate it when she called me 'dude' but I've learned that it isn't really a name, simply an interjection. I still don't like it when she does it in front of other people, though. I don't want my coworkers thinking I'm so informal. "What's your favorite field?"

"We'd like two guest passes to the presentation in amphitheater…amphitheater F," I say to the small woman running the sign-in table. She nods and types in her laptop. I look back to Cosima who is staring at me, waiting for an answer. "I…like immunology, I guess. I'm interested in most facets of physical science, but my degree is in immunology". I look back to Debbie, still typing.

"Dude!" she practically yells in my ear. I give her a look, hopefully she understands how tired I am of _dude_. "That's what you've got a doctorate in?" I nod. For some reason I'm a little offended. What did she think I had a doctorate in? Did she think I just liked being called doctor for no valid reason? I guess I never mentioned it and a degree in immunology doesn't typically land someone in a corporate finances position.

"Very sorry, but there are no guest passes available for that presentation, ladies. Invitation only. Are you not on the list?" I assume we aren't, but I give her our names to check. She shakes her head.

"Dr. Leekie said that you could get us in," I try to convince her. I don't particularly want to spend my lunch hour listening to that man talk, but it beats the cafeteria.

"Well, Dr. Leekie was mistaken. I don't decide the audience. I just let the assigned people into the assigned rooms. It looks like this presentation was scheduled for yesterday, so it's got a high security clearance. It must have just been moved last minute. Sorry ladies," she says with a pouty smile that puts me off. I walk away without a word, pissed. I hear Cosima thanking the woman and jogging to catch up with me. Maybe that's why I like her around. She takes care of the polite business that I don't particularly like to do.

"It's kinda weird that he didn't just let us in while we were standing there. That would have made more sense," Cosima comments. She doesn't seem as upset about it as I am. There's still a lot of harbored resentment for the man in my head.

"It's also odd that the meeting is so private…" I have a bad feeling about the whole thing, but anything that man does gives me a bad feeling.

"Well, no. Not if they're presenting material that hasn't been published yet. Don't want anything to get stolen. Credit is a fragile thing in research". We enter the cafeteria, which is much less crowded than I was expecting. Cosima is right, maybe I'm just trying too hard to make it suspicious. I've been on a passive revenge kick since we first met, years ago. Maybe it's time I back off. He seems to be nice to everyone else.

"_Hello?" I hold the phone with a nervous grip._

"_Hello, Miss Cormier?"_

"_Yes?" I don't like it when people forget to say the doctor part. I'm not full of myself, but I want credit for the work I did. Maybe I am just full of myself, I don't know._

"_After reviewing your application and interview, the CEO thinks it best that you use your accounting degree. He would like to employ you as the CFO rather than a lab technician or supervisor. If you are available tomorrow afternoon, we can get you all set up and issue an ID badge". The woman sounds like she's doing something else while she's talking to me. Distracted. I hate that._

"_But…I…I didn't apply for CFO?" I say softly, still too passive for my own good. "Can I discuss the decision with the CEO?" The woman sighs and schedules me a meeting._

We don't see Dr. Leekie for the rest of the day. It's probably for the best since I still don't have a great amount of control over what I say to him. Cosima is yawning, but she's always tired so that doesn't mean much. Our flight isn't until ten this evening, hopefully we still have time for dinner.

"I'll drive. You choose where we'll eat," I say as we approach the car. She gives me a funny look. Understandable. She's always the one to drive and I rarely like her type of food. I've been feeling weird today, though. Cosima seems different, but I know she isn't. Maybe being in close quarters with her for these last few days has taken a toll on me. Or the heavy drinking. I hope I didn't say anything stupid. I don't even remember what kind of drunk I am.

She gives me directions, but that's the only noise in the car for the entirety of the drive. We pull up to the restaurant and I look at her, a little irritated. She rolls her eyes at me.

"I don't have any strong preference with food aside from it just needing to not be disgusting. But, you…" I open the door so she can't finish. I know she's just trying to be considerate or something, but I feel pandered to. Always a French restaurant. She doesn't mean it that way, I know, and I should just let it go. I have such a hard time letting things go, though. This will be a long meal. At least I don't have to suffer through a cheeseburger. I really should just be thankful.

* * *

Cosima sleeps on the flight again and I take out my book. She looks so much different when she's sleeping. I've seen her sleep before, but only at her desk with her fist propping up her face. It's not the same aesthetic. Without her glasses, it just seems like she is free of a mask that doesn't always suit her. Maybe that's why she seems different. It can't be that superficial, though. I watch her for a while before I realize that I'm staring. If she caught me staring at her, Lord knows how much shit I was get. My book is still open to the page it was on forty minutes ago.

"_Dr. Cormier, come in," the balding man ushers me into his office. It's dark and wide like an abyss. "So, I hear you had some questions about your job offer. Have a seat," I sit in the chair across from his. I feel small._

"_Yes, I was wondering why I was offered a position that I didn't apply for and that has no relation to my doctorate". I see a large portion of the wall behind him is lined with five or six filing cabinets. They look out of place._

"_Were you not educated in accounting as well?" He leans back in his chair comfortably. There's six of them – different heights. That's probably why they look out of place._

"_I minored in accounting, but I have no applicable experience and–"_

"–_Delphine," we're on a first name basis already? "I've read some of your papers. You are a great scientist, researcher, and not a bad writer, but you have a perspective that this company – or at least this branch of the company – does not share and your views will not be taken well. But you're smart and I still want you aboard our team. Just think of it this way: you'd be one of the youngest employees with such a high position. You're what? Twenty-eight?" I nod. I still don't want the position, but I feel resigned to it now. Maybe I could work my way to the labs. That's what I tell myself, at least._

"Dr. Cormier, come in," I hear with a sense of déjà vu, and was somehow hoping he wouldn't be in his office, even though he was the one who called me down. It's not much different since the last time I was here. Still dark. Still off-putting.

"What can I do for you, Dr. Leekie?" I say with a very audible sigh as I sit in the chair facing his desk. The only noteworthy item is a stack of hiring folders. The rest of his desk is bare.

"I just wanted to see how you liked the trip last week. It was your second time going, right?"

"Yes. It was fine," I hate talking to this man. I just want to make every response as short and curt as possible without telling him to piss off. Even my thoughts are more vulgar around him. I'm not this bad around Cosima and she cusses more than anyone I know. Her cussing is different, though. It's more similar to an accent or dialect than anything else. I don't even think I'm bothered by it anymore.

"And Cosima, how did she like it?" It feels like he's trying to drag this conversation out. I don't see the point of it anyway. He didn't do this last year.

"I don't know. She probably thought it was fine. I think she would've rather gone to your presentation since science is her field. As is mine…" I don't even try to hide the bitterness in my tone. I look at the filing cabinets behind him. It bothers me that they're not all the same color. Some are dark grey, one black, and a few are light grey. It looks bad.

"Ah yes, Evolutionary Developmental Biology. One of the first things she said to me. And you…Biochemistry, that's right. Both good fields. It's a shame you couldn't make it into the presentation. I forgot about the guest passes. Next time, I suppose," he smiles, somehow with an air of authority.

"Immunology," I say through my teeth. He knows what he's doing, "And, yes perhaps…" I am great at being the dead weight in chit chat conversation, but he's good at ignoring it.

"So, other than that, did you two have a good time? I hear there are some good places to eat in the area," my exasperated expression doesn't seem to have any effect on him.

"Yes, we went out to eat a few times. I had the…pleasure of meeting Cosima's family while we were there. They were…nice…"

"Cosima has family in Canada?" he asks casually, but I can hear something in his voice. Like he doesn't believe me.

"A recently discovered twin sister, her daughter, and her foster mother. The sister's name is Sarah, but I don't remember anyone else," I say more to myself. It makes me feel a little guilty that I can't remember their names, especially the girl since Cosima has reminded me of her name several times. Oh well, it's not like I need to know.

"Ah. I thought Cosima was an orphan. I guess those things can happen," he sounds nervous, I think. It's subtle, but there's some tension in his voice, a higher pitch. "And the daughter…is she adopted as well?"

"I don't know…why?" I'm starting to feel like sharing was a bad idea. Why did I bring it up in the first place?

"Well, with Cosima being barren herself, I figured it may run in the family," he mutters and looks at his hands with a thoughtful, but intense expression. It seems like something he didn't mean to say out loud. "The mind of a geneticist, I guess… Oh, uh, Cosima mentioned that some time ago. Maybe don't say that I let that slip…you know her temper. So…yes well, I'm glad you two had fun. Maybe next year will be better in terms of presentations," he ends the conversation and I leave without a word. I don't want to bring up that neither myself or Cosima will be attending next year's conference since she will no longer be my assistant by then and I will no longer be the interim department director. It will be weird not having Cosima around anymore. I wonder if I'll get more work done without her or less. She is a good assistant when she shows up.

It does strike me as odd that Cosima would mention something like that to Dr. Leekie. She really doesn't talk much about her personal life and she's never mentioned wanting kids. Maybe that's why she's never mentioned it. She also probably wouldn't mention anything to me in the first place. Why was the man so skittish, though? It was as if he was hiding something – again. Why didn't he just ask Cosima how she liked the trip? I couldn't have been making that behavior up in my head. He was acting suspicious. Maybe not as suspicious as I interpreted it, but he was still acting suspicious.

"Heyo, Happy Monday. Coffee's on your desk," I hear Cosima say as I pass by her. She's eating a bagel and scrolling through something on her phone. I'm tempted to ask about what Dr. Leekie said, but I'm not sure.

"Thank you," I say, and she snaps her head up at me. I'm not usually very polite to her, I realize now.

"Everything okay?" Wow, I'm so impolite that she thinks something is actually wrong when I use manners. Maybe my last assistants were right to abandon me.

"I, ehm…" I turn away from her. The deep gaze she uses when she's curious is getting to me and I can't think straight. "Are you very close to Dr. Leekie?"

"Psh, no. I've talked to him like three times since I started. Why?" I hear her put her phone down.

"He said some things to me to indicate otherwise…" I shake my head, confused as to why I'm even discussing it with her. She is allowed to be close with him. I'm just letting my suspicions take over me. But if she isn't close to him, why would she have told him those things? Is she lying? Either way, she should be careful around him. He can be manipulative. I turn to look at her, evaluating her sincerity somehow.

"Like what?" She asks, tilting her head. Come to think of it…what temper? I've never seen Cosima's temper get out of control. Not around me, at least.

"We were talking about the trip, I mentioned that you visited your family. He knew you were an orphan, which I guess isn't unusual if it's public knowledge, but then he asked if your sister's daughter was adopted…" I stop when I see Cosima's eyebrow raise.

"Why?" she scoffs.

"He said, as a geneticist, he was curious since…since you're barren?" I say it like a question. I'm sure Cosima can hear the uncertainty in my voice. I'm so uncomfortable. Why did I bring this up?

She almost chokes on her food, "Dude, what?" I'm nervous now that this alleged temper is going to make an appearance. "I don't think I've ever told him that I was adopted, but I think I've mentioned it to Shay, and she doesn't have the tightest lips, you know. But as for my fertility, he's making that one up. I've never even had that tested. I have no reason to believe I'm fucking 'barren'," she hooks her fingers into quoting signs. "I'm gay. I've never needed to get a medical explanation as to why I'm not getting knocked up after having sex…" She rolls her eyes, looking more irritated than suspicious.

She's gay? Did I already know this? Oh, yes – her constant flirting with Shay. I suppose I didn't connect it to her sexuality. I just thought it was a quirk. She's gay. Hm.

"Well, I'm just telling you what he told me," I defend before retreating to my office. I sit down and take a big gulp of my coffee. She's in front of my desk before I put the cup down.

"Is that why you're acting weird," she crosses her arms and looks at me skeptically. This would usually make me mad, but today I feel passive and small again. Maybe all that unneeded time with Dr. Leekie.

"By weird, do you mean thanking you for the coffee?" I try to assert some sureness.

"No," she says with a tone. "By weird I mean you're walking really stiff when you usually walk with confidence – dare I say grace. You're talking quiet and carefully rather than quick and exasperated, half in French. You're looking down and you usually keep your chin up so that you have to look down at everyone. And you just seem off. What's wrong?" she asks, putting her hands on my desk and leaning over my computer.

"I'm fine, Cosima," she's making me feel very insecure about my actions now. How the hell does somebody notice all of that within a minute of my presence? And why is she acting so powerful when I'm her boss?

She's acting powerful because, right now, she has power over me. That's why. She knows me, my mood, and she knows about all the little things I can't hide. I don't like it. How long has she known me this well?

"As convincing as that _wasn't_," she saunters to my side of the desk, "I still don't believe you. And here's the big issue with that," she stops near my chair and leans back on the desk, folding her arms in front of her, "Whatever is wrong, it usually gets taken out on me during the day until it's fixed". She's not lying. God, am I really that bad of a person?

"Nothing is wrong," I can hear the shake in my own voice. It feels like she's threatening me, my heart is racing. Is this the temper? No, I've seen Cosima like this before. She's being cocky, but it's different this time, somehow. I feel different. This is something I usually just blow off and ignore, but today I've been sucked in. How annoying.

"Whatever, man. Just let me know if you need to talk or just, you know, blow off some steam…" she winks and walks away. She knows it's my weakness – her flirting. Most of her other comments I can deal with, combat, but her flirting is just beyond my wit. Obviously, I'm not affected by it, I just don't know how to maneuver myself out of it. Flirting has never been my particular area of expertise. I probably couldn't even define it without a dictionary.

For some reason, I start to wonder what Cosima would be like to hang out with. I get the feeling she is the type of person who would like to go clubbing or just get drunk with a bunch of friends. Not my type of friend. I don't have friends, so I guess no one is my type of friend. Not that I'm considering Cosima as a friend, I'm just curious.

When I get home, I immediately take a shower. More than a couple seconds around Dr. Leekie makes me feel like a layer of filth has settled on my body. I dry off and wrap my towel around my body, not bothering to put any clothes on until I absolutely need to. I fix a salad and sit on my couch. The same thing I've done the last four nights, alone. My apartment is clean, it always is, so I can't busy myself with chores. It's like no one lives here. Cosima has been here once. I had to stop by for something, I don't even remember what, and she waited on the couch. That's the only visitor that's set foot in this place aside from the landlord and electrician. I don't know what's making me think of this now. I don't know why I remember her sitting on my couch so clearly.

She's probably out right now, doing something worthwhile with her time. I'm here, eating a pathetic salad, alone, on a couch that I don't even like. I wonder how many friends someone like Cosima has. She could pick up her phone at any time and be able to talk to someone. I can count the number of contacts in my phone on one hand. One of them being the landlord and another being the electrician.

"_Delphine, come on. Take a break. It's not like you're behind," I hear Justin behind me. He always speaks in such a whine. _

"_I don't want to end up behind," I don't turn to face him. If I see that pouty face of his I'll have the urge to yell and I don't think any of the librarians would appreciate it. _

"_Yeah, you're not going to. Come on, babe. Just–" I shut my book with a loud thud, earning glances from a few of my peers. I ignore them and start shoving my textbooks and notes back into my backpack. He follows me as I exit the library. It's warm outside, thankfully. _

"_Justin, please stop. Go with someone else," I turn finally to face him. We're outside, I'm fine with yelling._

"_You want me to take someone else on a double date? The whole point is that we're a couple and they're a couple. They're our friends for Christ's sake, Del," he rubs his forehead like this conversation is giving him a headache. _

"_They're your friends. So, why don't you find someone else to be a couple with you? Listen, I didn't want to end this on a bad note, but obviously you're forcing me to," I raise my voice slightly. It actually sounds a little bitchy, which is more than what I was hoping for. _

"_Nope. No, Delphine, I'm not forcing you to do anything. This is just who you are. If you want to fucking blame me for trying to be a good boyfriend, knock yourself out. And you know what, good luck with making any friends or having any kind of human relationship for the rest of your fucking life, because if you don't change, you will never be close with anyone. You can be shitty all you want, but at least acknowledge the problem, Delphine. You," he says everything calmly, assertively, and then walks away. I roll my eyes and walk the other way. I never liked him anyway._

"I think the 'send' button is your best bet," I hear out of nowhere. I turn to see Cosima in front of my desk with a small stack of folders. I'm confused until I look at my computer screen, an email written and ready to send, my cursor over the send button. I've just been staring, though. Too caught up in my own depressing thoughts. Pathetic thoughts, too – thoughts of a high schooler.

I wonder if it would just make it worse, having friends. If I'm distracted now, what would it be like if I had to keep track of more than just myself? I've been alone for so long that it would feel odd to have someone around. Whether it be a best friend or a boyfriend, I'd probably just screw it up anyways. At least with Cosima, she has to show up every day, no matter what mood I happen to be in. She's the closest thing I have to a friend. God, that's so sad. I will die alone, just like so many past lovers have told me. It's not a good feeling and the thought of it is starting to get to me. My confidence and worth are being torn down by–

"No, you're probably right. Staring at the screen will eventually send your emails and finish your work," I hear Cosima again. Dammit.

"Sorry, I, ehm…what do you need?" I sound tired. Didn't I sleep? I must have. I don't even remember driving to work this morning. Maybe I'm dreaming.

"I've got the most recent funding crap or something? Not sure. Here you go," she sets the stack by my computer, but doesn't leave. Instead, she crosses her arms and gives me that expression that breaks me every now and then. More often than not, nowadays.

"What?" she looks at me inquisitively, her face scrunching up. It almost makes me smile for some reason, her looking at me like that. I must be dreaming.

"You've been acting strange for almost two weeks now. Furthermore, you're not even taking it out on me – another red flag," I sigh and shake my head lightly. What does she want from me? "I bet you fifty bucks that, if you tell me what's wrong, you'll feel at least twenty percent better".

I look at her with disbelief as she closes my office door and pulls a chair up in front of my desk. "And how do you intend on measuring that?"

"Doesn't matter since you already agreed, now spill," I don't remember agreeing, but I leave it alone. How bad could it be if I talked about it? I wouldn't mind talking with her. Cosima never gossips, she's even been known to stop rumors in their tracks. Another reason I value her as an assistant. She actually defends me, even when I'm sure she doesn't want to. But she may have judgements of her own. Even if she does, she keeps them to herself. She's a better human than me in so many ways. "Well?"

"I don't know, Cosima," I sigh, trying to position myself so I look a little stronger than I feel. "For some reason, I'm remembering when I was younger and had friends, boyfriends, and how well things never seemed to go. I've always kept people at a distance whether I meant to or not. I'm not sure that I like it, though," I dare to glance at her. She's listening intently. "It's not like I can just change. Especially at work. I just…feel depressed, I guess. Not that, but I can't think of the word," I turn to the window, avoiding the fact that I said anything at all. It's not like me. I'm not even sure if I feel disarmed by her or just resigned and desperate.

"Lonely," she says. One word perfectly fit for what I'm feeling. Why do I want to cry now? I won't cry. "Dr. Cormier, people need people. Unless you're completely unfeeling, it's like a human requirement," she says without judgement. Maybe I am completely unfeeling then. It would make some sense. I'm sure most of my previous friends and lovers would agree. "And before you go down that road, no, you aren't completely unfeeling".

I look to her with a glare that I don't mean to use. "That's not what I was thinking," I lie. She crosses her arms again and smirks at me. I scoff and roll my eyes.

"Liar. Let me see your phone," she says as she takes my phone from my desk, not bothering to wait for permission. She knows my password: 1913. She shamelessly watched me type it in once, announcing it right after, and I've just never bothered changing it. She'd only look over my shoulder again. She types something and then hands the phone back to me.

"Hey, what's up?" I read the text she typed up, addressed to herself. Not sent, though.

"The next time you're feeling lonely, hit the send button, kay?" she orders.

"Why?" I ask, feeling uncomfortable with the text being there, even though it hasn't sent, even though she knows I didn't type it. Why am I even humoring her with this? I should just delete it now and tell her to get back to work. I should get back to work.

"And," she ignores me, "if you don't send that by eight o'clock tonight, I'm just coming to your place and making myself at home. Alright? Good talk – oh," she turns back to me, reaches over my body, making me roll my chair back, and clicks send on my computer. I should've sent that email an hour ago. Any other day I would've had the urge to hit her for that. I'm too tired today. Eight o'clock tonight? She just assumes I'll be lonely.

* * *

It's six o'clock and I'm still staring at my phone. I haven't even had the courage to make dinner yet. This is stupid. She wouldn't actually come barging into my apartment if I didn't text her. It would be inappropriate for me to text her anyways, I'm her boss.

Oh, but she would without a doubt come barging into my apartment if I didn't text her. Even if I locked it, she would knock incessantly until I opened the door. But if Cosima has the social life that I assume she has, then she's probably forgotten all about this and is out with friends somewhere. For some reason that makes me angry. She can't just threaten me and then go do whatever she wants. No…she wouldn't anyway. She takes every opportunity to get under my skin. She would take the whole night off if it meant bothering me. I don't know if I should feel flattered by the attention or threatened by it. Probably neither.

* * *

It's seven o'clock and I'm still staring at my phone. I had some toast to calm my stomach, but it hasn't helped a bit. I couldn't even finish it. Why am I so nervous? It wouldn't be so bad if it was anyone but Cosima. She is the type of person to make good on her threats. Shit – I should get dressed. I'm in a t-shirt and underwear. If she really does just come in, I should at least be dressed. I'm reminded of our trip, the first morning when I woke up nearly naked. When I got ready for bed, I simply forgot she was in the shower and got ready like usual. She almost saw me in just my underwear and skimpy bedtime shirt. Why did I pack those in the first place?

As I'm pulling some jeans on, I realize I have the perfect solution for tonight's dilemma. I don't want to give in and text her, but I also don't want a home visit. So, I finish dressing, grab my jacket, keys and purse, and then make my way down the stairs of the apartment building. If she still wants to stop by, she can break into my apartment for all I care.

As I reach the bottom floor, I pull a cigarette out of my purse along with a lighter. It's a bit chilly out and a cigarette always makes me feel a little warmer. I stop directly outside of the door to light it and then turn right to start walking. Unfortunately, I don't make it through a whole drag before the cigarette is plucked out of my mouth and examined by a familiar brunette leaning against my apartment building.

"These are so bad for you, dude," she takes a drag herself and continues walking the same direction I was heading. I look at my watch, it's only 7:20 p.m. and she's already here. "So, where do you want to go for dinner?"

I have a hard time keeping up with her pace. It makes it harder to think. I know I should be pissed – I would typically be pissed – but, for some reason, I just don't feel it. "How do you know I haven't already had dinner?"

"You don't eat when your anxious," she answers immediately. She didn't even have to think about it. She's wearing that long red coat of hers that matches the spark of mischievous energy in her eyes.

"How do you know I'm anxious?" she looks back at me with a grin and cocks her head. She sticks the cigarette back between my lips. Her finger just barely sweeps along my bottom lip. It feels odd. I take a drag.

"You smoke when you're anxious," she slows down a bit and walks beside me, probably noticing my effort to keep up. I have longer legs – shouldn't I be ahead of her? "So, where's dinner? Should I choose?" I can only nod. Her audacity leaves me speechless.

We walk for a while in silence. The coolness of the night is starting to get to me, despite my cigarette. "The one time you show up early," I say more to myself, shaking my head. She looks at me with a crooked smile. "I thought I had until eight. Why were you there so early?"

She snickers to herself. "Ah man, I showed up at like six thirty. I knew you weren't going to send that text. And I knew you weren't going to stick around for my visit. You really waited until last minute to bolt, though".

"You knew that I was going to leave? How? I didn't even think of it until just before I left," I'm predictable, but am I that predictable?

"C'mon, let's eat," she ignores me (again) and drags me into the nearest restaurant. Italian.

For some reason, I enjoy my meal. Very unexpected. Though, I still make sure my approval is unknown to Cosima. She even pays. She's quiet for most of the meal, which I am grateful for. She doesn't seem to mind, and she's generally a talkative person. Contentedness appears to be second nature. I wish I had some of that. Any of that.

An easy conversation about our respective fields builds up after dinner. Cosima forces me to eat some ice cream bar from a gas station. It's not bad. She talks while I eat. She speaks differently when it's about the things she's studied. Around the office, she's always been casual, sarcastic, calm, but when she talks about projects, articles, or research, she's passionate. She talks quickly and her hands fly around, threatening the safety of her own face. It's a side of Cosima I've never experienced. I feel somewhat ignorant, but I used to think of her as kind of dumb. I thought she had applied for the lab jobs and they made her my secretary out of pity for her lack of credentials. I was wrong. She is more than qualified. She's brilliant. She's absolutely brilliant. I worked hard in my college years to get pristine marks and it was exhausting. With Cosima, it seems like she did the same thing, but with delight. It strikes me as something of a personal high for her. She's remarkable and I feel stupid for having missed that. I feel even worse – maybe ashamed – for insisting everyone call me doctor, for insisting everyone recognize me when Cosima couldn't care less. Should I call her Dr. Niehaus, or should I start going by Delphine?

"Dr. Cormier?" I hum in response, noting a twinge of shame when I hear what she calls me. We're walking back in the direction of my place. "When was the last time you had a conversation with someone outside of work?"

It feels like such an intimate question, but I can't tell if it really is. "I don't remember. Probably sometime in college".

"Jeez. What about your parents? Do you talk much? I don't really know the time difference from here to France".

"I…I haven't talked to them since I was a girl. Thirteen or fourteen, I think," I've never told anyone that before. My roommates at the academy knew, of course. But no friend or partner has ever really asked that. Is that my fault? It can't be all my fault.

"Wow, that sucks. Are they shitty? Just a bad parent-daughter relationship?" she asks. The tone in her voice makes the question sound so much less personal than it is.

"No, they were wonderful".

"Were? Did they pass away?" her voice is soft. It's the tone that I've never liked hearing, but it doesn't make me as irritated as I thought it would. Coming from her, it just means something different. I'm not sure what, though.

"They did. I was in boarding school at the time. I suppose if I was still living with them, I would've died, too. The neighbors had a gas leak or something. Old apartment building. Everyone surrounding their unit was affected. Middle of the night". Have I ever explained this to anyone? Ever? I honestly don't think I have.

"I'm really sorry," she says as we stop in front of my place.

"Don't be, it was a long time ago. I don't think I ever even cried about it," I say to myself when I feel arms wrap over my shoulders. As I feel our bodies closing in together, I start to panic. My heartrate speeds up and I can feel my body tensing.

"Cormier, this is a one-time thing," I hear her say close to my ear. "It's a goddam hug so calm the fuck down".

"When does it stop?" I ask, trying to make it out as sarcasm, but probably failing.

"You know what to do to make it stop…" she squeezes tighter. I really don't want to, but if I ever want to go to bed, I have to reciprocate. A moment passes before I'm able to slide my arms around her waist. It's a weird feeling, holding someone. I've only ever done it out of social obligation with boyfriends, and on rare occasions, friends. Her body is stretched slightly to reach me, so I feel her breathing. She's so demanding, but I'm either used to it or so completely shocked by it that I let it all happen. It actually makes it easier sometimes. I can trust that, if I don't know what she wants me to do, she'll just tell me outright. She doesn't play guessing games.

When I think about tomorrow, I get this feeling that I never want to let go of tonight. Right now, she is acting as my friend and it's fine, but tomorrow I will have to figure out how to interact with her. Can I go back to ignoring her and bossing her around like the asshole I am? Why couldn't I do that – I'm her boss? But it would be awkward. It will be awkward in any case. That's why I don't want to let go. The moment I let go, I have to face the reality of our boundaries and abide by them. I don't have a problem with that, I just think Cosima might. Maybe not, I don't know. She said it was a one-time thing. Why does that feel so unappealing? God, I just need some friends.

"Okay, enough of that," she doesn't give me the chance to hold on forever. She backs up and digs in my purse, pulling out my phone. Our proximity doesn't change much, however. "There. Now the thing you were afraid of is already done. So, look at me really quick," she shoves the phone back in my purse before I can even look at what she did.

"Okay…"

"And roll your eyes at me like you're super annoyed," she instructs.

"What?" I almost laugh.

"Just do it, c'mon".

"Fine," I try my best to make it convincing, but I end up smiling. I can't tell if I'm embarrassed or…I don't know what else. She crosses her arms, waiting for me to do it right. I take a deep breath and try again. It works and I can even feel a little second-hand irritation from it.

"There. Back to normal. Tonight never happened, so don't worry about tomorrow, and just go to sleep". She turns and leaves, leaving me speechless again at the end of the walkway to my apartment building.

When I get upstairs, I barely cross the threshold into my unit when I hear my phone buzzing. A text from Cosima. I read the whole conversation.

**10:48 PM**

**You**: _Hey, what's up?_

**10:49 PM**

**You**_: I had a good time. Thanks for paying for my pizza. You are so awesome and smart and talented. I'm so jealous of you._

**10:56 PM**

**Cosima**: _Hey, no problemo. And yeah, I get that all the time._

I laugh. I laugh out loud, in the middle of my empty apartment. Not a loud guffaw, but a noise involuntarily comes out of me. Cosima forged an interaction between the two of us, a scenario I didn't even have to take part in. She is interesting. I wouldn't mind finding someone like her to be my friend. Not her, of course, but someone like her. Someone who can take responsibility for more than the standard 50% of interactions. Someone who can take the fear out of just being. Cosima's friends – her real ones – they are lucky people, whoever they are.

* * *

Friday comes quickly, it seems. I've been distracted lately, working at a much slower pace. I'm afraid to admit the reason to myself, but I know what it is: Cosima. She hasn't been doing anything differently really, but I find myself paying more attention to her. Like now, she's filing the funding paperwork in a filing cabinet across from my desk and I can't help staring at her. I feel like I'm in some tired daze.

Ever since she hugged me on Monday evening, I've been noticing her body more. I look at her waist and remember holding it. I look at her arms and remember them over my shoulders. I don't even know if I liked it. Why can't I tell if I liked it or not? Am I seriously so unfamiliar with feelings that I can't identify them when they're there? I feel like a pervert staring at her, especially when my eyes start to wander for no reason. Ugh! "Arrête ça," I whisper loudly to myself. When I realize that she probably heard me, I whisper it loudly again in my head. I turn my chair to face my computer. A distraction from the distraction.

Cosima shuts the drawer a moment later and I see her sauntering towards me with a sly smile. That's never a good sign. She pauses in front of my desk and leans over slightly to whisper, "N'arrête pas!" and walks away, chuckling. God, she's entertained by my torture. My cheeks are warming up. With my reactions, you'd think I am actually affected by her flirting. It feels like it, but I know that can't be true. Maybe just intimidated by it. I hate being intimidated.

"Cosima, how are you doing today?" I hear that snake-ish voice from just outside my office.

"Hey, I'm good. What can I do for you Dr. Leekie?" Cosima replies with that chipper attitude of hers. She's so good at talking with people. Or maybe I'm just that bad at it.

"I was actually hoping to grab a set of files that may have accidentally made it in the stack that was given to Dr. Cormier. Funding documentation sound familiar? The set name was something along the lines of 'Leda North America'. Maybe some numbers in there," he asks her politely, but I can hear some tone of desperation in his voice.

"Oh yeah, I remember that stuff. I gave it all to boss lady, though, so she would be the one to ask. Do you want me to have her give you a call when she's in her office?" Has she forgotten that I'm still in here? I guess that's fine since I really don't want to talk to him.

There's a short pause before he answers, "Yes, uhm, that would be lovely, Cosima. I'll talk to you soon, have a good afternoon," I hear his footsteps fade into the hall. I immediately get up and go to the filing cabinet. He can have the documents, but not before I make copies.

"Oh, the shit I already filed. I need to pay more attention," I hear Cosima's voice, approaching me from behind. She doesn't seem surprised to find me in here, which means she knew. She sent him away on purpose. Why?

"How often do you do that, Cosima?" I ask her without turning, focused on my task.

"What, not pay attention?"

I turn to glare at her, she's leaning against the adjacent filing cabinet. "Make people believe I'm not in my office…" She didn't technically lie.

"Oh, that," she bites her lip. She looks nervous – it's not that I'm upset. When did she start biting her lip? That's new. Or it's not new and I just never pay attention to her. "Pretty much all the time. I just figure you don't ever really want to be disturbed. Can't you hear me from your desk? I do it, like, almost daily".

I pause for a moment to think, "I can…I guess I just never listen. That man's voice, however, always catches my attention," I can't seem to find what I'm looking for. I would ask Cosima where she filed the stupid things, but she's got that cocky grin right now that I don't want to fuel.

"Well, you obviously heard Shay that one time," she says with a tilt in her voice. I do remember that. Making out in my office. Shay visits her too much. That's not just my opinion, she's always at Cosima's desk talking and disrupting my work, asking Cosima all sorts of personal questions. Ah! I finally find the folders – " /Region.32" – and make my way to the copier. "What are you doing?" she follows me over.

"Making copies before I turn them over," I say exasperatedly. Is it not obvious?

"Well, it sounded like they weren't meant to go to you. They might be private…" she mentions cautiously.

"Private is exactly what it sounded like," I start to explain. If there's one thing I can trust, it's that Cosima will be on my side. "But the problem with that, Cosima, is that no financial business is private to me. It's literally my job to handle it. I don't care to involve myself in others' business, and I don't care to have mine bothered either. I cannot do my job correctly if I'm not given everything that I need to do it correctly". I know I'm ranting. Cosima's learned by now, though, that I'm not ranting at her. She just listens. It's nice sometimes.

"Works for me," she says dismissively. I knew she wouldn't push it further. She's not a bad person, but she's not always a stickler for the rules. The days she comes in smelling like marijuana is enough to tell me that. "Do you want me to drop the originals off or would you prefer to hand them over?" she asks once I'm finished. I always make her do these things and I'm starting to feel bad about it. Should I feel bad, though? I'm her boss and she doesn't detest Leekie nearly as much as I do. She actually used to have a pretty good opinion of him, although it's lowered over the months that she's worked with me.

"Ehm…" I think about it a moment. Maybe I should do it…but I don't know if I could keep it together in front of him. He's too suspicious and I'm too paranoid of him. "Would you mind doing it?"

She shakes her head with a smile that I don't really get. I take both stacks of paper and go to my desk. "Hey, I have a question for you," she starts hesitantly. I raise my eyebrow at her and lean back on my desk after setting the stacks down. "Why have you been treating me differently lately?"

"…differently how?" I've been a little more polite, I guess.

"Like, a few weeks ago, you would've ordered me to bring these down to him before I could ask whether you wanted me to or not. But today, it was very much the opposite. You're, like…nice…ish. Are you still feeling awkward about Monday night when we went out?"

I roll my eyes, "We didn't go out, Cosima. You showed up at my place uninvited and forced me to eat with you," I cross my arms, needing a semblance of authority.

"Right…so are you still feeling awkward about that night when we went out?" she continues without regard.

I scoff and roll my eyes again. "Why would I feel awkward about that?" I glare at her with half a mind to make her be the one to re-file all the copies. No, I should take them home. I didn't even go over them before having her file them the first time.

"Well," she slowly saunters over to where I'm leaning on my desk. It looks like she's trying to be seductive…kind of. Maybe she's not even trying, that's just how I'm seeing it. "We did end the night with a passionate embrace under the starry night sky…" she gets as close to me as she can without touching and crosses her arms. I can feel my chest tighten and my breath hasten. She's always had a stupid amount of power over me with her fearless personality, but lately I've been less and less able to cope with it. Especially that damned flirting. It was something I could just blow off and she'd stop. I'm pretty sure it's something she uses to make me stop talking or lecturing her. But now…now it's different. I feel so compelled to engage, probably just to gain some control, but I know I just can't. One, I'm awful at flirting. I've never been good at that. And two, she's too quick for me. I wouldn't be able to keep up.

"…non…" I barely get out. I can feel her breath softly hitting my cheeks. She's looking down at me for once since I'm leaning against my desk, that's how close she is. I am defenseless right now, physically and intellectually. I may be smart, but not with this. Maybe it's not so nice having someone know me so well. Is she biting her lip again? Is it on purpose? Why am I looking there anyway? God dammit.

"Oh, mais oui," she says just as quietly. She's leaning toward me now, keeping constant eye contact. I know she won't do anything. She just likes to tease. But as much as I'm different now, I know it, she is too. I'm sure she's been acting different in response to my own changing behavior, but can I trust her to just tease still? And why am I reacting? Teasing only works when the target is affected by it. If I didn't care, I wouldn't feel anything but annoyed, but I don't, I feel teased. God, what the hell is wrong with me?

"Cosima…" I breathe. With how close she is, a whisper is more than enough for her to hear me.

"Well, I better get these down there," she says, reaching around me. I can feel the words on my neck as she gathers the folders on the desk. Her thighs lightly brush against my knees as she straightens the pile behind me, not bothering to pick them up first or bring them to her own desk. She leans one hand on the desk next to mine, and the other hand brings the pile around me. "Oh dear," she says dramatically.

"What?" I breathe back.

"Well, these are all out of order now since you just threw it on your desk carelessly. Papers all over the place – it's a mess," she sighs sarcastically. "I'll have to put it all back together before I deliver them, unless…" she sets the pile down next to me and leans over me. "…you wanna just make out instead?"

I make the stupidest move possible and let my eyes wander to her lips. I'm not seriously considering it, but that's just where my eyes go. _No, you can't be serious, absolutely not, what are you talking about, get back to work_…all things I want to say, but can't. Instead, I stare at her speechless.

"You're right, we can just save it for tonight," she says, looking away thoughtfully. I can still feel her breathing, she's so close.

"Tonight?" I manage.

"Yeah, when you come out with me again, repay me for Monday," she picks the pile up again and finally puts some space between us. "I'll meet you at your place around…six-ish?"

"What?" I can't seem to conjure up anything more to say.

"Okay, good plan," she ignores me. "Six at your place. Be ready," she says before taking her leave, heading in the direction of Dr. Leekie's office.

"Cosima," I shout before she gets too far. She turns and steps back into the office. "Make sure to tell him that I haven't gone through them yet. Okay?" She gives me a thumbs up and winks.

* * *

"Cormier," Cosima whines when she sees me. "You didn't even change out of your work clothes!"

"I didn't know the dress code and I don't feel like making more laundry for myself," I grab my purse. "Let's get this over with".

"Jeez what do you think we're doing, sour-puss?" she walks beside me down the stairs.

"Well, it's a Friday night so I'm assuming your forcing me to go clubbing or involve myself in the drug scene. I've already got 911 dialed up on my phone," I show her. I really am worried since I don't know her style of recreation.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended. Although, you're half right. We'll be doing one of those activities," we enter the cab waiting for us by the sidewalk. "The Minneapolis Institute of Art is usually open until five, but tonight it's open until nine".

"I hate to break it to you, but that's not a club," I roll my eyes and watch the road go by slowly.

"Yeah, that's not the half that you're right about. Here," she hands me a little bag of gummy bears, half-finished, probably by her.

"I don't get it".

She pushes my hand toward my mouth, "Eat them. They're edibles and weak enough that you won't get completely stoned". I give her a hesitant look before swallowing them all at once. Her eyebrows raise like she's impressed.

We get to the large building just before seven and I can already feel a light high. By the time eight o'clock rolls around, I believe the full effect of the gummies have kicked in. I've been here before, and I didn't think it would be too much different, but the high does give some of the art an alternate affect. Not much. I watch as Cosima browses. She looks content as always. She seems so happy with life and I wonder what makes her that way. I would assume that I'm the one who's messed up, but I don't see anyone else act so pleased with existence. I admire it. I'm a bit jealous of it, too.

Surprisingly, she doesn't stay by my side all night. She wanders aimlessly, it seems. I can tell that her smile isn't just from the high. She makes happiness look so easy. "So, is this all you've planned for tonight?" I ask when she strolls up to me. It's almost closing time.

"Why?" she smiles slyly. "Don't want this night to end?" Instead of answering, I just glare at her. "If you must know, I'm taking you to one more place before I take you home…to your place…uh, ramène," she adds awkwardly.

We exit the cab again, this time in front of a little book shop somewhere near the university. When we enter, I notice that the whole place smells familiar. It smells like…Cosima. "This is the best study spot in the city. There's a second floor with a few tables, not really meant for studying, but they work," she says as we walk around. Most of the books are quite old aside from some geography books and what looks like a new set of encyclopedias. We don't see anyone, no customers and no staff.

"Is this place open?" I ask when we stop in a particularly dusty section.

"Uh, actually it might not be. It closes at ten or eleven," I look at my watch, 10:45 pm, but she doesn't seem to care.

"Cosima!" we hear a scratchy voice behind us.

"Lucien, I've missed you, dude," Cosima turns around, going to the man for a hug.

"It's months since you come to visit me," it's then that I notice his accent. Is Cosima just cosmically drawn to the French? "Who is your friend?" The man takes a few steps toward me, offering his hand.

"My boss, actually," Cosima folds her arms and smiles at the interaction she gets to watch.

"Bien, comment allez-vous ce soir, ma chérie ?" He lifts my hand and kisses it gently. I can tell he's used to American girls swooning when he speaks French.

"J'vais bien, merci," I say with more attitude than I mean to. Cosima seems to notice.

"So, hey, are you closed? I mean it's usually empty in here, but I couldn't remember if it was ten or eleven," the man turns to Cosima.

"It's always ten, you just stay to eleven," he explains. She snaps her fingers and nods. They finish talking eventually, he tells her it's fine that we walk around for a while and Cosima brings me to the second floor where she studied throughout college.

"I worked here right before going to Dyad. Luci put me through college basically. Probably gave me a wage over what I deserved. But anyways, since it's seriously always empty in here, I would chill at that table and do my homework or whatever I felt like," she sits down at the scratched up wooden table in the back corner. I sit across from her.

"You paid for university with a bookstore wage?" I ask, almost not believing it.

"Yeah, why do you think it took me like over ten years to get my doctorate?"

"Evolutionary Developmental Biology…" I say, more to myself.

"Did I tell you that?" she asks suddenly.

"I think so," I ponder for a moment. "No, Dr. Leekie told me that," I conclude, remembering both conversations – she told me about her doctorate in 'scientist-ing'.

"That dude sure does know a lot about me," I nod. "At least I remember telling him that one. I don't know why he would remember it, though. I think you're right about him. He's kind of… unique," I don't say anything. I don't want to ruin Cosima's nature of giving people the benefit of the doubt, and it seems like that's what I'm doing already. She should be careful anyway. She shouldn't trust so easily.

"Cosima?" she looks at me. "How do you know you're not… infertile?" I ask cautiously.

"I guess I don't know for sure, but I've never had it tested so it's not like anyone else could know either". I nod again. We both hear the soft sound of the front door opening. Cosima hops up and goes to the edge of the balcony looking down at the first floor. "Hey, sorry man, we're closed," she shouts down. I hear a few steps and the door closing again.

"_We're_ closed?" Lucien calls from downstairs. It seems he didn't notice the patron enter.

"Luci, this is why you got robbed. Lock that door," she orders him. It's funny hearing her boss around an old man and I can't help a giggle. She looks back at me.

"What?" Cosima takes her seat across from me again.

"Nothing," I smile. Upon seeing my smile, she grows one of her own. I don't know why it makes her so pleased when I do that. I remember one of the first times she caught me, during our trip. She looked like she was watching me grow a second head, she was so shocked. Don't I smile?

"Right…well, it's like eleven thirty. You wanna go home?" she asks. I honestly don't. We're not doing much, but I'm enjoying myself, and by now, what little amount of high I had, it's gone. With anyone else, I would be bored out of my mind or irritated trying to come up with conversation topics or an excuse to leave. With Cosima, though, I know she's not waiting for it. If she wants to talk, she will, but she's comfortable in silence as well. It's relaxing. I'm glad she took me out tonight.

"You can say no…" she brings me back to the present.

"No, no. It's late…" I see that cocky smile of hers creep up.

"And you must get plenty of rest if we're going to see a show tomorrow. Good point, let's go," she gets up and is dragging me down the stairs before I can protest. Not that I would. What else am I going to do on my weekend? Clean? Read the same book over again? Think about work?

* * *

"So, why are you a CFO instead of a scientist? As far as I know, immunology isn't a fiscal degree…" Cosima asks as we're walking up the stairs to my apartment. I don't know why she's walking me all the way there.

"A similar situation to yours, actually. I applied to work in the labs, but Dr. Leekie thought it best I work elsewhere," I reply. I'm still upset over the whole thing, but I'm tired so my words come out softer. Or maybe it's because I'm around Cosima.

"Why? What does immunology have to do with money?"

"I have a minor in accounting. Not enough for my current position, but I caught on quick enough. I don't know, I think Dr. Leekie said he read my papers from university and thought they were…not aligned with his scientific ideology," I lower my head, remembering my submissive response to his offer.

"That's stupid. The whole reason you have a team of scientists is so that there's more than one take on something. What did your papers say? _All science is dumb, and the world is actually ruled by financial statistics_," she makes air quotes through her awful impression of me.

"Not quite. I don't really remember, now. I haven't read them since I got my grades back," we get to my door, but Cosima doesn't leave just yet. She has her thinking face on.

"Can I read them?" she asks eventually. It surprises me, but I keep forgetting that she's also a scientist. She'd understand the subject matter, I suppose.

"I guess…" I say, looking at her skeptically. She shrugs her shoulders, gesturing for me to fetch them. "Right now?" she nods. I unlock my door and go to search for them.

"Thanks," she says when I hand them to her. I close the door most of the way so that she doesn't see the mess I made trying to find what she asked for. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? One o'clock". She smiles and turns to leave. The only thing stopping me from offering to let her come in is that I'll see her again tomorrow, and the shameful disorder of my desk. I don't know why I've grown so attached lately, but I already dislike that she's gone. It's not a comfortable feeling.


	3. Interested

**12:38 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Anything in particular you want me to wear?_

I smile at the text like an idiot. It's not often my boss asks me that. Like, never.

**12:40 PM**

**You:** _Yes but it wouldn't be appropriate since you're my superior…we're going to a theater…the audience is in the dark…your call_

**12:52 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Just making sure. _

**12:53 PM**

**You:** _;) see you soon 3_

I can tell, even from the solitude of my own empty apartment that she is blushing right now.

"What are you so happy about?" Sarah's voice brings my attention back to our video call.

"Oh, nothing. Hey, I gotta go. Say hi to monkey and S for me, okay?" Sarah flips me off, blows me a kiss, and hangs up. I miss her already. I wish I'd known her when I was younger. I would've loved a sister, especially her. If anyone ever picked on me, I know I could trust Sarah to rough them up.

After deciding on my short red dress and some black heels, I lock up my apartment and search for a cab. It's not really how I'd usually dress for going to see a show, but Dr. Cormier doesn't know that. I just like making her blush. It's adorable. I don't really wear professional clothing at work either, but it's never this showy.

The entire ride to her apartment I can feel myself getting nervous. It isn't like me, but I suppose it could be the fact that I'm not high…maybe. Probably not. The cab pulls up to the front of her building a little after one o'clock. I text the doctor and she's climbing in the backseat within a minute. She must have been waiting in the lobby. The second she closes the door, though, I can't take my eyes off of her. She's not wearing anything too impressive, just some skinny jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. However, the skinny jeans are delightfully snug, dark wash, and the shirt has a scoop neck style that doesn't quite go off her shoulder, but so close. I can see her bra strap and the way it bridges over her collarbone. Jesus.

"Can I help you?" she asks in an exasperated tone. But I can tell she's actually quite enjoying this. It's not often that I'm speechless.

"Aren't you a bit over-dressed, you know, for you?" I ask, looking away as I feel the cab moving. I already told the driver where we were going before we got to Dr. Cormier's apartment. I want it to be a surprise of sorts.

"I could say the same thing," she raises her eyebrow as she looks me up and down. It gives me a chill – maybe fear.

"This is the kind of stuff I wear on my weekends, Cormier," I bite back.

"That's not what you were wearing last night…"

"Friday doesn't count as–" we both shut up when we notice the driver's shoulders jiggling a bit from trying to contain his laughter. I can see Dr. Cormier biting her lip and watching the buildings go by. She isn't fully joking with me, but her mood has been so much lighter lately. I'm pretty sure that I'm breaking that hard exterior of hers.

* * *

The show is pretty entertaining, but what's more entertaining is watching Dr. Cormier cringe. She was already shocked when she realized I didn't mean _movie_ _theater_, but a real live performance, and even more surprised when she discovered (the hard way) that it's a musical. She sits through the whole thing, though, and doesn't complain. That's not something she would've done before. She wouldn't have even stepped foot in the cab with me.

The show ends and we're on our way to the street when I spot Shay in the crowd outside. It looks like she's with someone, but she's obviously eyeing me and Dr. Cormier. I hope she doesn't get the wrong impression and start rumors at the office.

"Uh, do you need to smoke or anything?" I ask while the crowd slowly dissipates.

"I suppose. Why?"

"I need to prevent an issue really quick by saying hi to someone," I say, looking in the opposite direction of Shay so she doesn't figure out what I'm talking about. If she saw Shay, she would freak out and probably run off, ruining the day. She might not let me take her out again. I don't know why I feel the need to do it all the time now, but I just do. It's amusing.

"Euh, okay," she takes a cigarette out of her purse and slowly walks to the main sidewalk. I walk in a sort of semi-circle to try and hide my destination in case Dr. Cormier's eyes decide to follow me. After I finish my round-about way to Shay, I tap her shoulder.

"Hey, office mate. What brings you here?" I greet as she turns around.

"Cos, hey. Greg, my very favorite gay man, he loves Fiddler on the Roof. I couldn't let him miss it. What about you?"

"Oh, just here to force someone into loosening up. She's got quite the stick up her ass," I try to say as casually as I can, feeling her out. Now I'm not so sure if she even saw us.

"Are you saying I have some competition?" she says playfully.

"Hey dreadlocks," a very tall man struts up behind Shay and leans his arm on her shoulder, saving me from a response. "Check it out, bitch," he says to Shay in an overly flamboyant voice. He hands her three slips of paper, each with a name and a number. "And I'm not even halfway finished".

"Lemme guess," I say as the man walks away without a response from either of us, "Greg?"

Shay sighs and shakes her head at him. "Yeah, he's trying this stupid sympathy pick-up line. Trying to prove it works since I don't believe flaunting your orphan childhood is appealing. I suppose he's winning, though".

"It doesn't hurt that he's hot," I say, looking at him as he talks to a short man. They both have sad, sensitive expressions. "Wait, an orphan pick-up line?"

"Yeah. Just getting people's numbers with his sob story. I think trying to relate it to the play. He's just a prick who happens to be adopted," she says, rolling her eyes.

"And he's actually an orphan?" Shay nods and hums slightly, taking a drink from her bottle of water. "Well, shit, do you only make friends with orphans?" she raises her brow at me like she has no idea what I'm talking about. "Well, I guess we're not really friends, just coworkers, but…"

"You're adopted, too?" she asks. I'm not sure if she's joking at this point. She's not usually one for sarcasm like this, and I know she's not a great liar.

"Yeah…" I answer slowly, hoping she'll give up the joke if it is one. I did tell her, didn't I?

"I didn't know that, yeah I guess I attract that crowd, eh," she giggles. She totally isn't joking. She must have forgotten…

"Weird, I thought I told you," I prompt, hoping she'll remember, and I won't feel crazy.

"Nope, I would've remembered something like that. Probably would've told Greg". Damn, now that I think about it, I don't think I did tell her. I remember having a conversation about family or something and wanting to say it, but I think I decided against it since she's known to gossip. But she's the only way Leekie could've found out. It's not like I put it on my resume. It's not on any of my social media profiles. What the fuck?

"Okay, I have to go. I'll see you Monday," I shout as I start jogging in Dr. Cormier's direction. Shay waves and goes back to watching Greg copy down numbers. I guess she didn't see Dr. Cormier either since she didn't ask about it. Shay's the type to bring that stuff up immediately, flaunt her great wisdom and hold it over everyone's head.

"Hey, sorry," I say, out of breath, as I reach Dr. Cormier who is just putting out her cigarette.

"All taken care of?" she asks with her eyebrow raised. It seems like everyone is doing that to me lately, especially her. I want to tell her right away what Shay said, but she catches me off guard again when she turns to look at me and discretely checks me out. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? It makes me so nervous, and a little insecure which isn't like me.

"Yep, yes all done. So, now we're going to eat. Would you like to choose? My treat," we start walking down the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind. I get the feeling I'm going to choose again.

* * *

"Would you like another refill on your water, miss?" the waiter asks my company. You can see him holding back a smile. Dr. Cormier just nods. He fills her glass and leaves after giving me a wink.

"Last time I chose French you got mad at me and you didn't seem enthralled with Italian. I don't know how to please you, woman!" I openly laugh at her as she chugs half her water.

"Maybe don't convince me to get the spiciest dish on the menu," she says with a little bitterness.

"That's the funny part doc, you got a pretty mild dish. There was only one little flame by yours. Mine, however, had all three," I take a big bite of mine to show off.

"Oh," she looks at her plate, mystified by its powers.

"So, I guess we can cross musicals and Indian cuisine off the list of things that please you. Apparently, marijuana is on there, though. Hmm…" I reach my fork to her side and take a chunk off her plate. She slaps my hand, but I can see a smile toying at her lips.

"Don't say that so loud, Cosima," she yell-whispers. The waiter comes back to our table with the check and is about to leave without a word, but I grab his sleeve.

"Sir," I say loudly, but not quite at a shout. "You see this gorgeous woman here? She likes to indulge in the marijua–" suddenly I feel a hand on either side of my head, one over my mouth and the other on the back of my neck, keeping the pressure. The waiter walks away again, this time with a full-fledged smile. Not even trying to hide it. He looks back once before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Cosima, what's wrong with you!" she does the same pointless yell-whisper again. I stare at her silently until she realizes that she's still covering my mouth.

"Dude, nobody fucking cares. This is what I'm talking about, you need to relax," I want to say more, but our closeness is getting the better of me. Even worse, she has neglected to remove both hands, so one is still firmly on the back of my neck. Out of context, it would look like she's trying to go in for a make-out session in the middle of the restaurant. _Even more-worse-er_, she seems to have noticed our proximity as well and now can't stop looking at my lips. Goddammit, Cormier. Goddammit Niehaus, too. It's not like I'm stopping it…

I see a flash of blonde hair in the window quickly before it completely disappears. It looked a lot like Shay…which reminds me!

"Dr. Cormier, I forgot to tell you something," I say, breaking the momentary state that we both found ourselves in.

"Oh, sorry. What?" she says, finally taking her hand off my neck and placing it in her lap, still on my side of the table.

"Well, not to fuel your weird grudge against Leekie, but I was talking to Shay earlier today and she had something interesting to say," I lean back, keeping my distance while I let my heartrate calm the fuck down.

"You were talking to Shay? Today?" she asks with a weird pitch. Maybe she did see Shay at the show. Shit.

"Uh, yeah. Earlier, though," I try to keep any indication out of my voice. I really don't know how she'd react to finding out Shay may have saw us there… But I thought I came to the conclusion that Shay didn't see us? That's right, it should be safe to tell her, then. "She was at the show with her friend. That's who I needed to go say hi to," I explain.

"Oh," she says, sounding relieved. Doesn't she have more questions? Why isn't she freaking out?

"Why aren't you freaking out?"

"Why would I?" she asks, seriously. Is she really the calm one right now?

"What if she saw us?" I poke.

"Then she'd see us. We weren't doing anything wrong, Cosima," she states with some amount of pretentiousness.

"But she'd see us in kind of dressy clothes. And look at me, I'm dressed a little slutty for a matinee…" I don't know why I'm trying to convince her to worry. It's just…it's usually her job to worry, not mine and she seems totally fine. That's my role, dammit.

"Well," she sounds nervous again. There, good. "Shay wouldn't see it as anything out of the ordinary since this is what you usually wear on your weekends, right?"

What? Is she trying to make me confess that I don't actually wear something this revealing every weekend? Clever. "That would be true, but Shay and I have never hung out outside of work," I finish the argument.

"Oh, good…or…yes, well it still doesn't matter. Colleagues are allowed to associate with each other in public…" she says, trying to regain some composure. Unfortunately, she's too late. I've already realized what she was so nervous about. Wow. I didn't expect the almighty Dr. Cormier to be jealous! I'm not sure exactly how I feel about it, but it's a good feeling. Maybe another win.

"Anyways…" I get us back on track, "I found out that I never told Shay I was an orphan. So, she couldn't have been the one to spread the word that made its way to Leekie. And it's not like I advertise it anywhere that he could possibly have come across. So, yeah".

"Something's going on, Cosima. I don't like it. Leekie has always been suspicious, from the first time I talked to him and he refused to give me the position I applied for because my ideas didn't fit with his ideas. It's not right. And it's more than just me being bitter about not getting that job, it's his whole personality. And at that conference when he didn't let us into the presentation. That must have something to do with it. You know what, why did he even hire me if he didn't like my scientific perspective?"

"Because you're hot," I interrupt her little rant. She blushes immediately. It's great.

"O…kay," she mumbles. Seriously, does she not know that?

"Like, really hot. And French," I add fuel to the fire by leaning in closer so that she has to lean back a bit. This is hilarious.

"Well, that makes me even more sick about it, then," she steals a quick glance at my lips before sighing and facing the other direction.

"Why should it? He gave you a position you weren't prepared for because of your looks and you proved to him how smart you are by being killer at the job anyway". For some reason, she blushes at this more. "Oh, remind me later when we get to my place to get those papers of yours."

"Your place?"

* * *

A cab drops us off at a park near my apartment. No one is ever there aside from the occasional trade-off between dealers and junkies. We walk the rest of the way to my place, mostly silent. She stays silent when we arrive. The woman takes my apartment in while I go to the freezer for our dessert, and then I hand her the bar as she sits on my couch.

"Is this supposed to be special?" she asks, holding her treat up in the slowly dying sunlight coming from my window.

"It's an Eskimo Pie, stupid. Just eat it before it melts". She sighs heavily and does as she's told.

"You're the first assistant I've had that's said I'm stupid," she takes too big of a bite and gets a large glob of ice cream stuck to her cheek. She closes her eyes and tries not to scream. I smile.

"It's not an evaluation of your intellect," I say, scooping the chunk off her face with my index finger, "I think of it as a pet name," I shove the melting chunk in my mouth, unwilling to waste the treat.

She gives me that '_the audacity of that girl_' look as I lick my finger clean. I just smile, what's she going to do? "You have so many books," she comments instead, standing to go to one of my bookshelves.

"Yeah, I'm surprised that you don't have more at your place. You're always reading something," I say, genuinely curious.

"I read a lot of e-books, and the articles I read are always thrown in the recycling bin after I'm done. I only own a few physical books". I nod as she browses through my shelves. "Did you get all of these from that bookshop?" she asks after a moment.

"Not all, but a whole lot of them. Before he got robbed, he didn't always have enough money to pay me, so he sometimes let me take books instead".

"You make it sound like he did better after getting robbed," she scoffed, glancing back at me.

"He did. Which is weird because he didn't even have insurance at that point, but you would know more about that than me. He was actually doing pretty good after that. He got the stupid faucet fixed in the bathroom and obviously a new security system. And it's not like we were any busier. It was still dead most of the day," I sense that I'm rambling. I hate when that happens.

"That doesn't make any sense," she turns toward me, her scowling face on. After throwing the stick to her ice cream bar away, she returns to her seat next to me. "There is no way he could afford repairs and a brand-new security system even with his current state of business, much less after being robbed. It doesn't add up, Cosima," she says warningly again.

"Maybe you're just paranoid. Maybe the whole Leekie thing is totally normal and you're blowing it out of proportion along with this," I challenge, for some reason a little bothered, as though she's accusing my old boss of being corrupt or something.

"Even you admitted the Leekie thing was off, Cosima," she practically yells, turning to face me. "Hey, I almost forgot. What did you mean…my essays from university that you took last night?"

"Oh!" I jump up to grab them and a bottle of wine. "I made some notes – don't worry, they're not directly on the paper".

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asks, eyeing the wine. She can try to hide it, but I know she wants some. I even got the brand she found in Canada.

"I thought a bottle couldn't get you drunk, Cormier…" I smirk at her and pop the cork. I take a swig straight from the bottle and then hand it to her. She gives me a look but takes it. I hate to admit it, but it's somehow sexy when she does it.

"Well?" she catches me staring and gestures to the papers on the coffee table. "Did you read all of this? I gave these to you last night, Cosima…"

"They were interesting," she looks at me suspiciously. "Right, so, um…I read these and noticed a few themes that you seem to consistently point at that Leekie could have a problem with…" I take another drink of wine before going through the essays with her. She listens diligently, stealing sips of wine every now and then. I end up lighting a joint. It was inevitable. Sometimes being high makes it easier to talk to her anyway. At least that's what I tell myself.

"It's got to be that last one," she says with a light slur and a heavy accent. I forgot how her French comes through when she's intoxicated. "But that is even more worrisome".

"It is the one that makes the most sense," she's right, it would be worrisome if that particular theme was what Leekie had a problem with. In her papers, Dr. Cormier consistently expresses strong beliefs about certain parts of nature being left alone. Certain aspects that shouldn't be tampered with or experimented with. Attempting to mix one animal's genes with that of another completely different animal was one, different types of animal testing was another. But the problem is that most of Dr. Leekie's most famous beliefs are about going beyond those boundaries. He makes it sound very progressive, but after reading Dr. Cormier's writings, it does seem a bit creepy. My own college essays never focused on these topics, right or wrong, so Leekie didn't have any reason to keep me away from the labs, he just needed someone to be Dr. Cormier's assistant.

"You never used to bite your lip," I hear from beside me. Dr. Cormier is staring at my lip, making me aware of what I'm doing. I release my lip and shake my head distractedly.

"Yeah, I think I got it from you," I confess. I must be too high – I should've kept that one to myself. The pot in combination with the bits of wine I've been able to sneak away from my boss are taking their toll.

"That must be it," she says, her eyes starting to droop. I realize the secondhand smoke must be taking a toll on her as well because she's now concentrating on biting her lip as though it's the only way to process this information. Because of my state, _and only because of my state_, it's driving me crazy. I'm not sure why I can't look away. I know that what we're talking about is important.

"Maybe we should get you home…" I say, watching as she bites her lip, releases, and bites it again. Thank goodness it's not Sunday, otherwise I'd have to deal with a hungover Cormier at work.

"I don't want to go home, I want to stay here," she pouts and it's absolutely adorable. She leans all the way back and crosses her arms over her chest.

"I regret the wine," I sigh, smiling at her. "My couch isn't that comfy. So, c'mon, no matter what you say, I know you won't feel the same in the morning".

"Too much work," she whines, resting her head on its side so she's looking at me. I'm rolling my eyes when I feel her hand creep up to my neck and station itself there. She's warm, maybe from the alcohol. "What's wrong with your bed?"

At first, I'm speechless. My immediate, more impetuous reaction is to say, '_nothing at all, shall we?_' but my more appropriately functioning mind catches up before the words come out. However, the speed capacity of this more appropriately functioning mind has slowed considerably with the woman's hand just under my jaw and her thumb stroking my skin. I mean, what a horn-dog. Her. Not me. I'm just taken aback because she's not much of a toucher in general and now she's escalated to caressing.

No, no, no. This can't be happening. She's leaning in, one destination in mind. "Hey," I say without moving. If I'm honest, I really _don't_ want to get myself out of this situation. Whatever she has in mind, I'd like to participate in.

"You send too many mixed signals, Cosima," she doesn't move back, she doesn't remove her hand, but she stops her forward progress.

"Look, it's not that I…don't want this, trust me. It's just, I don't like waking up with someone I know will end up regretting the entire thing. Bit of a confidence killer," I try to motivate myself to put some distance between us. "And you're my boss," finally her thumb stops its gentle strokes on my neck. I'm stupid and miss it already.

"Not for that much longer…" she argues in a small voice.

"Yes, well we can explore further then, but for now, let's get you home," she nods, takes another moment to keep me trapped in her grasp, and then eventually takes her hand back and gathers her belongings.

* * *

**1:26 PM**

**You:** _hey dr cormier..how are you feeling?_

**1:50 PM**

**You:** _just..you know..cause you got super drunk last night..ish?_

**2:33 PM**

**You:** _if youre seriously still sleeping im worried. _

**2:39 PM**

**You:** _even on the trip you got up early after getting shit faced the night before_

**2:42 PM**

**You:** _look if this is about what happened…its fine okay_

**2:43 PM**

**You:** _pls dont ignore me though_

**2:45 PM**

**You:** _youre totally ignoring me…not cool…it's not like anything happened_

**2:53 PM**

**You:** _okay so maybe you still are asleep and im just text bombing you…but im worried about you so if you dont text back within the next ten minutes…im just coming over to make sure youre not dead..kay?_

**2:54 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Cosima, I'm fine. I will see you Monday. Stop texting me._

**2:55 PM**

**You:** _you got it boss…dont do that again though! This is exactly what I didn't want to happen like I said last night. Just saying_

**3:11 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Well, you'll have to forgive me. I don't remember a lot of last night_.

**3:12 PM**

**You:** _oh thats good…okey doke see you monday _

Obviously, she doesn't text back after that. I don't know if I should believe her or not. If she did remember what happened – or what almost happened – that's exactly what she would say. But she was also drunk enough to be willing to take me to bed, so I wouldn't be surprised if she blacked out. She also could have just repressed the memory so far down into her subconscious that she thinks she blacked out. It wasn't that bad of a memory, though, was it? I mean, we didn't actually do anything, but even if we did…I don't know.

The rest of Sunday sucks because all I can think about is last night. What would have happened if I didn't stop it? We may have ended up in bed, but even my drunk self wouldn't have allowed it to go very far. One, she's my boss, and two, she's not even fucking gay! At least I don't think she is…I guess I've never dug into that. She sure seems straight. Even if she isn't, that stick up her ass is keeping her close enough to it.

By the time I'm in bed for the night, I've already fantasized a million different endings to last night. A lot of them don't end well for me. It really was for the best. I'm confident I made the right decision. Even if it wasn't the decision I wanted to make.

* * *

"Coffee," I attempt to say casually, but I can hear the tension in my own voice. I set the cup down on her desk. She ignores me but grabs the coffee. It looks like she's back to her old self. I'm not sure which version I like better. The one who ignores me and makes things simple, or the one who says thank you, cares about my feelings, but eventually complicates things by trying to kiss me.

"Was there anything else you needed?" I hear her ask, finally turning to me. Yeah, her old self is back. That dead expression is set comfortably in place. I realize I'm still standing in front of her desk.

"Uh, no. Sorry," I move back to my desk, but nearly run into Shay.

"Hey Cosima, just the person I wanted to see," she says, backing up to let me sit on the edge of my desk.

"What can I do for you?" I wink and smile charmingly.

"Is, uh, is Dr. Cormier around?" she asks, trying to peek into the office.

"No, I was just in there. I thought you said you wanted to see me?" I distract.

"Oh, I do. I just wanted to talk about Saturday. I couldn't really get into it there, but I know who you were with," she steps closer to me, dropping her voice a bit.

"Uhm, who do you think I was with?" I try to keep the nervousness out of my voice.

"Uh, your boss, duh? Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," she smiles deviously.

"Oh no, no. Shay, complete misunderstanding".

"You don't need to lie to me, Cos. Like I care who you're screwing," she says a bit louder than she should.

"No, Shay. It wasn't like that. Dr. Cormier has just been too tense lately and it makes her really hard to work with. I was trying to loosen her up to make work easier for me," I explain.

"Is that so? Isn't she always tense?" Shay crosses her arms.

"Yeah, but she's been a raging bitch lately. Above and beyond, I'm telling you. If someone didn't take her out to relax a smidge, it may have escalated to actual physical abuse," I cross my arms right back at her.

"I see. So, I guess that look in your eye at the play didn't mean anything, and her hands all over you at that restaurant was all just part of relaxing?" Shay steps closer to me, eliminating all room between us.

"The restaurant thing was a misunderstanding. I was about to tell the waiter that she liked weed and she was trying to…wait so that was you in the window? Why were you there?" I feel her hand grab onto my chin gently. She leans in so that her mouth is right by my ear.

"Checking out the competition, baby," she whispers and then gives me a loud, smacking kiss on my cheek. She goes to walk away but turns once more to me, "Although, judging by the way you look at each other, I won't win this one". She winks once and is out of my sight in seconds.

"The way we look at each other?" I ask myself quietly. I hear a shuffling around in Dr. Cormier's office and immediately jump up to assess the situation. When I enter and turn the corner, I see she's listening to her iPod. I move behind her to look at which song is playing.

"Give it up, I know you heard all of that," I say as I pluck her earbuds out. She turns to me with an awful neutral expression.

"What do you mean?" she asks innocently.

"You keep underestimating how well I know you, Cormier," she looks at me with genuine confusion. I sigh and point at the screen of her iPod, "This song is only fifteen seconds in and it's the first song on your playlist".

"So? Have you ever heard of shuffle?" she pauses her music and puts her iPod away.

"I sure have. The problem is that you're a control freak who needs to know exactly what's going to happen next, so you never use shuffle. I don't imagine you'd start now," I smile at her with a glare and she rolls her eyes with a sigh.

"Fine, I may have overheard your conversation…and the very sloppy-sounding kiss at the end," she scoffs.

"So…do you really not remember Saturday night?" I don't know why I feel so insecure about this, but I do.

"Well, since I woke up in my own bed, alone and dressed, I assume nothing that bad happened…" Ouch. That stings a bit. That bad? Is the thought of sleeping with me so disgusting? I think she notices my mood change a bit because she directs our conversation elsewhere. "So…raging bitch?"

I smile and give her a wink, "I had to sell it. I mean, why else would I hang out with you?" I hear the bitterness creep into my voice. I look down to my feet, a little ashamed of letting my emotions slip out like that. I turn to walk away and hear Dr. Cormier's response quietly behind me.

"Like I would know. It's not like I wanted to be there," she mumbles. I hear her keyboard start clacking again.

I turn around, the fury building inside of me. It shouldn't even make me that mad – it wouldn't with anyone else. I try to keep the impending tears from overflowing while I wait for her to turn. When she does, I don't even yell. My disappointment face is always affective, "Fuck. You," I say in no particular tone before leaving.

I sit back down at my desk and log into my computer. I don't full on cry, but I let some of the tears make their journey down my cheeks and dangle off my chin. This is the old Dr. Cormier, so she won't be out to apologize. The next time she talks to me, it will be some kind of shitty order or work question I don't know the answer to. I hate that I'm so torn up by this, it's not even that big of a deal and _nothing happened_! I mean, that's the whole thing, isn't it? Nothing happened, but just the thought of it happening is enough to throw her right back behind her walls and treat me like crap again. I'm so fucking glad there's only a couple more months of this before I get out of here and down into the labs. I fucking hate Dr. Delphine Cormier.

* * *

Monday's end comes glacially. Shay stops by once more at the end of the day with a stack of files from Mr. Mitchell. Her cheeks are super red and she's sniffling.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask before she leaves, logging off my computer and stuffing the files in my drawer.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Greg got sick and I'm afraid he so thoughtfully shared with me," she sounds pretty awful, too.

"Man, that sucks. You seemed fine this morning?"

"Yeah, I felt a little sick, but I thought it was just a hangover. Apparently not," she chuckles to herself before a brief coughing fit takes over her. "Sorry".

"Don't be, you're sick. Take tomorrow off, Shay. You should stay at home and rest. Feel better," she nods and smiles at me. When we're not shamelessly flirting, Shay and I could actually be good friends. She walks away with a little wave.

"You two seem close," I hear the office door closing and the lock switched. I glare up at Dr. Cormier.

"I think most people would see that as human decency," I say as I gather my belongings. "But I could understand why you don't recognize that sort of thing," I flip the light off aggressively and walk past her. I can feel a tickle in my throat, and I hope it isn't whatever Shay has. She did give me a slobbery kiss this morning.

* * *

**11:49 AM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Cosima, I understand you're sick, but it's been over a week. Do you plan on returning at all?_

I turn my phone over so that the nasty glare of the screen is hidden, along with the nasty text. I'm probably fine to go back to work, I just honestly don't want to. I could handle Dr. Cormier before, but after seeing a different side of her, the old her sucks. My thoughts are interrupted by a knocking at my door. I don't have time to sneakily figure out who it is because a voice accompanies the knocking.

"Cosima, it's me, Shay. Open up you sickly thing," I get up off my couch, put a hoodie on and open the door.

"Well don't you look perfectly healthy," I say, looking Shay over.

"Yeah, only lasted a few days. I don't know what's wrong with you. I mean, it's Friday, when did you take off?" she asks as I let her in the less than tidy apartment.

"I've been out since last Wednesday," we sit on my couch, the only clear space.

"Shit, girl. What's wrong?" she actually seems concerned. It's nice for a change.

"Just a nasty persistent cough," then something comes to mind…"How do you know where I live?" I ask, maybe a little too suspiciously.

"Oh, I just asked Dr. Cormier," Shay answered chipperly. "She didn't even have to look it up, she knew it off the top of her head…" she gives me a nudge and a smile.

"Yeah, well she's a creepy woman". Shay raises her eyebrow and cocks her head.

"Okay, whatever. I just came by to see how you were doing. Is there anything I can do, get for you, lick for you?"

"No, gross, Shay," I say laughing, pushing her off my couch playfully, "Get outta here, why aren't you working?"

"Lunch break," she smiles, getting up and away from my shoves. She heads to the door, opens it, but turns back right before closing it. "Just so you know, the only way I could get Dr. Cormier to give me your address is if I promised to tell her how you're doing…" the door closes with a quiet click.

God, that woman is confusing. And she said that _I_ was giving _her_ mixed signals? So, what's it called when she completely ignores me and is an asshat to my face but still sends other people to check up on me? Make up your mind doc!

* * *

Monday morning arrives and I know I need to go in. I'm not contagious, whatever it was that I had, and my cough is almost completely gone. It takes me a while to get out of bed, but it happens somehow.

I stop by the stupid café for her stupid espresso, and by the time I get to her stupid office, I see there's already a cup there. "Should I dump this one or do you want two?" I ask since she hasn't seemed to notice my presence.

She turns quickly when she hears me, surprise on her face that quickly turns into shittiness. "If I had known you were coming in, I wouldn't have stopped there myself. But since I was not notified…why don't you have it?" she turns back around, taking a stupid sip of her stupid espresso. I walk in the direction of my desk, loudly dropping the full cup into the trash bin next to her door. I can see her tensing up, probably with anger, but she doesn't turn around.

"So, this is the temper that Leekie was talking about," she mumbles to herself, quiet enough that I wouldn't be able to catch it at my desk, but since I took a moment to watch her reaction, I had the pleasure of hearing.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she turns but doesn't seem surprised that I'm still in the room.

"When Leekie told me about your apparent infertility, he asked me not to tell you that he let it slip, claiming I knew something about your temper. He'd have to know you pretty well if he knows your temper. But you always say he doesn't…" she crosses her arms.

"What, you think I'm lying? I have no idea how Dr. Leekie would know about my temper. It's something I keep under control at work. Only my family and my closest friends have experienced my fucking temper," I take a step toward her after slamming her door shut behind me. "And this isn't even it".

"Shay didn't seem to know anything about your temper," she throws back as if it's a brilliant argument.

"Ugh, yeah. Why would she? We're not close?" I shrug my shoulders.

"Well you could have fooled me. I suppose the constant flirting, sexual inuendoes, touching, and, oh yes, kissing at the office was just friendly behavior?"

"Dude," I whine at her. "I just love flirting and she just happens to reciprocate. And she's the one who's always touchy feely. I don't particularly like it. And that kiss was on the cheek, she did all that. Look, I would never date Shay. She's hot, but I prefer to date people I can actually talk with. Why are you always so paranoid about me and Shay?" I can feel my anger rising.

"I don't trust her," she says all snooty.

"You don't trust anyone! And even so, why are you being so goddamn protective of me, huh? It's not like you and I are dating, I'd never fucking date someone like you," I may have gone a little off topic, but it's where my feelings led me.

"Oh, so is that what you meant by 'it's not that I _don't_ want this'?" she imitates an American accent. "What happened to your consistency, Cosima?"

There's where she made the big mistake, "I could ask you the same question, _Delphine_," I add just to piss her off more. "I thought you couldn't remember that night?" I see the expression of dread wash over her face, but I can't even enjoy it because I can feel another coughing fit coming on.

"I didn't want to remember it…" she says in a small voice once my coughing ceases. She stands up, leaning over her desk and running her hand through her hair.

"Nothing actually happened, though. There was nothing you needed to forget," I say, a little softer but still with a bite. "Nothing so awful as contact with me, God knows how that can really fuck someone up. No trauma".

"No, and I'm grateful you stopped it. You were right, I would've been a mess in the morning. I just…" she turns and leans back on her desk, closing her eyes. I can see it's difficult, whatever she's trying to say, or not say, but I don't care right now.

"You just…" I saunter over to her, stopping right in front of her, my arms crossed.

She opens her eyes and shakes her head. "I'm just not interested," she answers even though it's unrelated to what she was actually saying before. I can see the determination, the walls she's putting back up. They were only down for a moment, when she was actually expressing something. Even if it was anger, it was something real. Not this fake, cold, unfeeling shit. Why is it so fucking hard for her to just have real feelings? It's me, I'm not going to judge, and she knows that.

I decide to force an emotion from her. I don't want to do it the hard way and wait until she feels ready to express herself. So, whether this brings joy, passion, or anger out, it's happening. I slide one hand behind her neck, pulling her forward, and the other hand on her waist. When my lips eventually touch hers, I find little resistance. She's cautious, but she's not pushing me away. I actually feel her hands grabbing onto the fabric of my shirt, just barely pulling me in. For the sake of this lesson, of course, I let her have her way. Within seconds, we're pressed together, and I can feel her heavy breaths gently moving against my torso.

Oddly, she doesn't kiss like a straight girl turned gay for a curious moment. She seems comfortable. Comfortable enough to run her tongue along my bottom lip. Like I'm going to say no to her… She dips her tongue in my mouth briefly, a flick at most. Instead of letting her in a second time, I grant myself permission and glide my tongue over hers until I hear the little noise that escapes her mouth on the back of a heavy sigh. As I remove my tongue, though, I also end the kiss.

"Okay," I say, looking her over while I catch my breath.

"What…why did that just happen…" she asks, confused. She's still holding onto my sides since we haven't moved apart.

"I think what just happened was my point was proven," she's making this having-power-over-her thing difficult by not taking her eyes off my lips.

"What point?" her eyes still set at one location.

"That maybe," I kiss her on the cheek, "you're not," the other cheek, "as uninterested," forehead, "as you say you are," I finish with one last kiss on her lips, which she accepts without question.

I honestly thought that was going to be a lot harder. I give her a look before returning to my desk. Isn't she the one who is supposed to always be under control? And I know that at this point I should be fairly certain as to what her feelings are for me, but I still can't decide. If she fucking likes me, why is she treating me all shitty again? Why'd she go back into hiding, walls reinforced now?

My thoughts are halted as a coughing fit sparks up and I'm rendered useless. It's worse than normal, coming from deeper down. A strong metallic taste creeps up the back of my throat, each cough bringing it further. I feel dizzy. Dizzier by the moment. It's so unusual, just a cough making me feel so deathly. Right as my ears start ringing, I see tiny splatters of blood on the inside of my elbow where I'm aiming my cough. It's a useless effort at this point. There's a hand on my shoulder, and I hear Dr. Cormier's voice, muffled by whatever noise my head is making. I don't even know what she's saying, I just recognize the voice. My body feels dizzy somehow, like my blood is made of tingling air and is rushing through me as fast as it can. I let my head drop back to try and see if I can understand what Dr. Cormier is trying to communicate, but the last thing I see is her terrified face before the world fades away.

* * *

The incessant chatter and beeping wake me up, however hard I try to fight it. My eyelids are heavy, but I see that I'm in the back of an ambulance. It's not moving, though. Two men are toying with the equipment around me, and don't seem to notice my waking. What happened?

"Cosima, you're awake," I hear a voice coming from my right. Dr. Cormier is sitting next to me, an anxious look on her face. Both men glance back at me for a moment, both look irritated. One turns to me and starts asking some standard questions. I answer as best I can, but my throat is raw. I don't mention the blood.

"Follow up with your primary physician, stay hydrated," he says to me, and then turns to Dr. Cormier. "Make sure she rests, gets fluids, all that. Probably stay away from sexual activity for the rest of the day," he turns to me again, "Follow up with your doctor, okay?"

"Of course, good sir. Can I go now?" he rolls his eyes and opens the back of the ambulance. We're still parked in front of the Dyad building. I hop out and Dr. Cormier follows, thanking the EMTs. There are a few people outside staring at us. Shay's there, along with a couple people from the labs that I see around a lot.

"Take the rest of the day off," Dr. Cormier orders before walking back into the building. It kind of pisses me off.

"Cosima, what happened?" Shay asks, approaching me. Everyone else gives me an awkward wave and goes back inside.

"I've always wanted to see the inside of an ambulance, so I fainted and got a free pass," I say, wanting to get her off my back so I can go see what Dr. Cormier is up to.

"No, really. Are you okay? What'd they say?"

"Just the regular stuff, Shay. They didn't really say anything was wrong," I start walking back into the building.

"Well, it sure seemed like it. Dr. Cormier was freaking out, she was the one who called it in," Shay follows me, jogging to keep up. We get in the elevator together.

"Yeah, I intend to talk to her about that. I'll talk to you later, Shay," I exit the elevator and walk toward Dr. Cormier's office, the opposite direction of Shay's.

"Okay, text me..." she seems hesitant to leave without more information. I nod, "Promise?"

"I promise, later Shay," she finally lets me go. I'm back to my desk in under a minute. I see my chair is pushed all the way back up against the wall. I don't remember falling, but I'm starting to feel some soreness that may indicate it.

"Hey," I knock on her office wall lightly.

"I told you to go home, Cosima," she says without turning around.

"Well, excuse me for wanting an explanation for that whole...event," I sass back, but she doesn't bite. "Please, tell me what happened. Shay said that you were freaking out," she turns around at that. I knew she would. Her reputation comes first.

"I did not freak out. You passed out, Cosima. And before you even fell, you were unresponsive. There was blood, and you were shaking. What was I supposed to do, leave you there?" I can see her lip trembling slightly and her hands balling up into fists in her lap.

"I'm not saying that," she turns back around and continues typing. "Thank you."

"De rien. Mais n'me fais plus jamais quelque chose comme ça encore," she mumbles under her breath. I smile to myself, proud that I actually understood most of it.

"D'accord, j'te promets," I exit her office, just in time to see her head whip around at me with that lovely expression of 'oh shit' before she disappears from view. Or it could just be my horrible accent...

* * *

As soon as I get home, I light up. Yeah, I just passed out from coughing, but pot sounds too good right now. It doesn't take long before I'm bored out of my mind, though. I like to relax on weekends but being idle during the week makes me antsy.

After spending forty-five minutes engrossed in an old textbook, I give in and take out my phone.

**1:22 PM**

**You:** _how's work?_

**1:28 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Did you make an appointment with your doctor?_

**1:29 PM**

**You:** _of course..._

**1:36 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Make an appointment Cosima._

**1:37 PM**

**You:** _fine fine...if only there was someone to come check up on me after work...make sure I made an appointment..._

**1:51 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _I'm sure Shay would love to. _

**1:52 PM**

**You:** _you and your obsession with me and shay. jealousy doesn't look good on just anyone but you are rocking it ;)_

**1:54 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _I am not jealous, Cosima_.

**1:55 PM**

**You: **_oh okay sure you're not. So, ill see you after work?_

**2:03 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Why on Earth would I check on you? Babysitting isn't on my agenda when my workday ends._

**2:04 PM**

**You:** _I mean at least to make sure I'm not dead..._

**2:16 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Text Shay._

**2:17 PM**

**You:** _oh my god stop with the shay thing im not going to text her...pleeeeaaase...just to make sure im not dead...you can leave right after...pleeeaaaaaasseeeee?_

**2:42 PM**

**Dr. Cormier:** _Fine. Make an appointment with your doctor._

**2:43 PM**

**You:** _;) cant wait _

I just barely finish my last text when Shay's caller ID takes over my screen. I sigh and mentally prepare before I answer. I know I have to, and this is better than Shay getting mad because I never texted her.

"Hello?"

"Cosima, why didn't you text? How are you feeling?" Shay's voice comes through anxiously.

"Chill, I'm fine. I've just been resting," I leave out the smoking weed part.

"I'm sorry, you just worry me so much. I don't mean to be nosy, but your health comes first. Did you go see a doctor yet?" I wonder where Shay is while she's talking to me. Break room? Mr. Mitchell's office? How many people are privy to this conversation?

"Not yet, but I was about to make an appointment before you called..." I'm already tired of talking to her.

"No, Cosima. You can't wait for an appointment to open up. Go to an urgent care place," she orders me. The ordering makes me a little annoyed, but going to urgent care would be way easier than making an appointment...

"I would but I don't have a car and I don't feel like walking or taking the bus," I do feel exhausted.

"Don't worry, I'll take you. I'm on my way now, get ready to go," she hangs up before I can say anything. I get up and put some outside clothes on. I'm pissed that she's just taking the liberty to decide my medical needs, but it would be really convenient of her to take me and she seems so keen on doing it.

Shay has always been kind of nosy, just the stereotypical assistant kind, but she's been more insistent lately. Maybe I've underestimated just how into me she is. I know she'd say yes if I asked her out. I guess she's not that bad. The entire time I'm waiting for Shay to arrive, all I'm thinking about is why I don't like her. I've liked girls dumber than her, less attractive. Still didn't ask them out, though. Why don't I like Shay? She even cares about me – enough to take time out of her day to take me to see a doctor.

Just when I start contemplating whether I'm being too picky, I hear a knock on my door. When I open it, Shay is standing there with a mom expression and her hand on her hip.

"Let's go," she grabs my wrist and we make our way down the stairs.

The whole fucking ride there, Shay doesn't stop talking about Mr. Mitchell's wife. Karen is too bossy, Karen never appreciates Richard, Karen takes his money, Karen doesn't _satisfy _him, Karen is a bitch. It's agonizing. Every once in a while, she checks in, asks me how I feel, but then she goes straight back to Karen. It is starting to sound like she has a thing for Mr. Mitchell.

When we finally get to the urgent care center, it's almost 4:00 PM. The place is empty, thank God, but it still takes fifteen minutes before someone calls me back. Shay stays in the waiting room. I would've killed her if she came in with me. Maybe she knew that. I've never experienced someone talking so much at once.

A nurse leads me to the back. He gets my weight, height, blood pressure, all the basics before he puts me in a room for another twenty minutes. I play on my phone for most of the time, glancing at the clock frequently. Dr. Cormier gets off at five, usually stays until five thirty, and it takes her about half an hour to get to my apartment from the office during rush hour. I should make it back by six, right? I have another hour and a half. What if she decides to actually leave at five today, though? Why do I care so much anyways? I just need to calm down.

"Cosima," a male doctor walks in, smiling and introducing himself. He looks familiar, but I can't place his name or face. He seems nice enough. We spend some time talking about when I got sick, how long it lasted, symptoms. All I can do is watch the clock, though. I think he notices. It's a little past five when I finally get to leave. Shay is still waiting patiently in the waiting room, and she smiles at me while I sign out. I wonder what other people think when they see us together.

"So?" she prompts as we start walking back to her car.

"So, he thinks I just coughed too hard. My throat is dry and irritated which caused the blood, and I passed out because I'm stupid or something. He didn't really have a concrete answer for that one. Said it could be a lot of things. I have a prescription, though. Antibiotics for whatever this is that you gave me," I explain. She starts driving in the direction of my apartment, not arguing my point.

"We'll stop at a pharmacy on the way. How are you feeling?" She seems quieter now.

"Meh, a little tired. Fed up with this stupid cough," she gives me a shrug of sympathy. "Thank you, by the way. It was really nice of you to take me, Shay".

"Anything for you, Cosima," she winks. It was a playful wink, though. She has apparently put off flirting while I recover. We spend a few minutes driving, stopping at a CVS before finishing the trip to my apartment. She walks me all the way up to my unit. I discretely check the time on my phone – 5:47 PM. We're cutting it close and I really don't want Dr. Cormier and Shay to run into each other here. Dr. Cormier would just turn right back around and leave. Not jealous, my ass.

When we get to my door, I turn around and thank Shay again, prompting her to _not _invite herself in. She gives me another entire lecture on my health and orders me to call and text and report every goddam thing to her. She's not my girlfriend or my mother, so I'll probably pass on all that. It's a few minutes past six when she finally turns around and leaves. I unlock my door, ready to get comfortable again after hours with Shay. This hasn't felt like a day off of work at all.

The second I step foot into my front room, I can feel something is off. I think it smells different in here. It doesn't smell like Shay's perfume, I don't think. Definitely not Dr. Cormier's scent. Her perfume is subtle. You have to be a little closer to smell it. Really, it smells like cologne. It's probably something French imported.

I set my bag down and wander around my place, searching for something that could explain the feeling I have. My kitchen looks untouched, as does my bathroom. My bedroom seems fine, everything seems fine except for the front room with my couch and all my bookcases. I go through my shelves to inspect. I don't find anything specific, but it feels...off. I move on to the desk where all my crap is piled.

The thing with my desk is that it may seem messy and unorganized, but I know exactly where everything is. The same with my bookcases. I'm not anal (maybe) but I know exactly how I put my books away, how I set things on my desk. I don't put my books away neatly, scooched all the way to the back, and I don't keep papers and books parallel with the edge of the desk. And I know that the last time I moved Dr. Cormier's college papers she gave me to read, I put them in the top drawer of my desk. So, when I find them on top of my desk, underneath a book and a folder, my senses are alerted. Someone has been in here.

Someone has been in here, I know this, but it doesn't seem like they took anything. What the fuck? Spying on me, maybe? No, that's too paranoid of me. I jump at the sound of a rapid knock on my door. Honestly, I'm afraid to open it. What if it's the same person or people who were here while I was gone?

"Cosima, let me in. I need to talk to you," I hear Dr. Cormier's voice on the other side. I'm more relieved than I thought I'd be. I'm actually glad she's here right now. I know she can't really protect me if someone comes back, but I don't want to be alone right now. I open the door and pull her in, slamming and locking it behind her.

"Dr. Cormier, I think something weird just happened to me," I say, out of breath. I don't know why I'm out of breath.

"Does it have to do with Shay?" she asks. She doesn't have that pissed off expression now, though, she looks serious. And disturbed.

"No...I don't think so. Why?" My eyes follow her as she walks further into my apartment, settling on the couch. Her fingers are twisting together, wringing her hands, and her leg is bouncing up and down.

"Cosima, you cannot spend any more time with that woman. Don't tell her anything about you, okay? Nothing," she orders. "Like I have said before, she isn't to be trusted". At this point, I really do wish it was just a simple jealous command, but I know by the fear in her eyes that it's not.


	4. Monitor

"As you say you are," Cosima finishes her point with one last kiss to my lips. A peck. I'm too speechless to even rebuke. What on Earth just happened? Why on Earth did that just happen? And it's not even that I didn't stop it, it's that I participated with vigor. What's wrong with me?

Cosima leaves, looking back at my helplessness before disappearing. I touch my lips, still moist. There's an aching feeling inside, but I'm determined to ignore it. I close my eyes and try to will it all away. It doesn't work, and Cosima's coughing doesn't help my concentration.

I hear a slapping noise, like something falling on the hard floor. I hesitantly leave my office, turning the corner to see Cosima leaning over her desk, one arm propping her up and the other arm covering her face. She puts her other arm down, it looks like she's about to fall, and I see the blood splattered all across her skin. It takes me a moment, but I make my way over to her and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Cosima?" I call softly. She doesn't look up. I can see her arms starting to tremble. "Cosima, you need to sit down...please sit down," she's breathing deeply, straining. "Cosima, I'm going to call a–" Cosima's head falls back and half a second later her eyelids droop shut, and her legs give way. I'm able to catch her before she hits the floor, but her chair goes flying back into the wall. When we both get to the wooden floor, I see a stack of file folders spread out on the ground – probably what had fallen and caught my attention in the first place.

I reach for Cosima's phone on her desk and call for an ambulance. I don't know what else to do in this situation, especially with blood all over her and her desk. She's laying limply in my lap, head tossed back, body lifeless. I cradle her back and neck like a child and check her pulse and breathing. Her pulse is a bit high and her breathing is still strained. Too many unexpected events for one morning.

"Hey Cos, got something – oh," Shay turns the corner, spotting us on the floor. "Oh my God, what happened?" Shay drops the files she had onto Cosima's desk and crouches down next to her.

"She fainted. Can you go wait for the ambulance downstairs and direct them up here when they arrive?" I just want her out of the room. I don't want anyone to see me like this.

"You called an ambulance?" she seems surprised. Since we are relatively close to a hospital, I can already hear the sirens.

"Can you just..." she nods and scurries out of the room.

I barely finish wiping the blood off of her arm and lips when the EMTs walk into the room in front of Shay. They check a few vitals on Cosima, taking her out of my arms, and laying her on stretcher before hauling her out of the office. I follow close behind, nearly pushing Shay out of the way.

"How long did you say she's been passed out for?" One of the men turns back to me when I don't answer.

"Oh, I euh, I called right away. Only ten minutes or so, maybe?" He gives me the same look that Shay did. Should I not have called? Just let Cosima lay unconscious on the floor?

When we get downstairs and out of the lobby, the other EMT looks back at me, "You family?"

I can tell he's asking to determine if I can ride with them. I know they won't let me in if I say I'm just her boss. "Euh, fiancée. May I?"

"Yeah, just sit there," he lets me up and the other man closes the back doors. I think they both know it's a lie, they just don't care. We stayed parked while they organize, the driver waiting for the go ahead while the two EMTs busy themselves. I look Cosima over. She is so pale. I straighten her shirt that had twisted around her in this whole process. It feels like the EMTs aren't taking this seriously. They don't seem like they're in a rush, and everyone just looks exasperated with the situation. They're chatting while they do something with some monitor. It's aggravating to say the least.

Just before I get ready to say something to them, I see Cosima crack her eyes open. "Cosima, you're awake," I say with a heavy exhale.

The EMTs turn around, seemingly even more exasperated with everything, as though my call inconvenienced them. Eventually, they lecture Cosima, tell her to make an appointment that I'm sure she won't make, and let us back out of the vehicle. Seeing people on the sidewalk in front of the building catches me off guard. I need to get back into my office as soon as possible before anyone sees my whitewashed face and red eyes. I can't believe I cried, even if it was just a few tears.

"Take the rest of the day off," I order quickly before retreating to my office.

When I finally get to my chair, I feel a flurry of tears run down my face. It must be due to the high stress, not just emotions. Cosima already had me worked up when she decided to make out with me at work, then she had to go and almost die. A short sob makes its way out of my mouth involuntarily. I need to focus, though. Focus on not having those emotions. I do not have feelings for Cosima, and I won't let her trick me into believing I do. No feelings for Cosima. No.

* * *

Although I hate to admit it, the texts I receive from Cosima throughout my afternoon really calm me down. I try to find excuses to not give in and check up on her after work, but I know I want to. It's just a control freak thing, as Cosima calls it, nothing more.

I park in Cosima's reserved parking space behind her apartment complex. It's always empty since she doesn't have a car. I stay there for a minute, mentally preparing myself. I need to be firm, not give her a reason to believe she's won or that kiss meant anything.

I notice how quiet it is around here as I walk around the front of the building. When I turn the final corner, I see Shay walking out of the building, talking on her phone. She doesn't seem to see me, but I hide behind the wall anyway. I know I shouldn't be upset. I mean, I was the one insisting she just call Shay. But she said she wouldn't, so why is Shay here? I just don't like being lied to, is all. I stop my contemplating when I hear Shay's voice approaching in my direction. I stay hidden behind the wall, still able to hear what she's saying.

"Yeah I couldn't get back into the apartment after, but I doubt she'd notice any – Yeah he'll send them over probably," Shay's high-pitched voice practically echoes into the alley. "No, he just told her it was from whatever bug she caught. The doctor was your guy, though, right? Why don't you ask him? I wasn't in the room with Cosima".

Cosima? She's talking about Cosima to someone else? I gather that Shay is just resting on the front side of the building. I want to run back to my car and hide, but after hearing this phone conversation, I just can't. Why would she be explaining Cosima's doctor visit? When did Cosima see a doctor?

"Oh, okay. Yes, she seemed to buy it. She's not contagious, right? … Good. I think she even may have thought that everyone else was overreacting. Like it wasn't that big of a deal for her. Or maybe she's in denial, I don't know … Dude ask the doctor that, he was in there. Cosima doesn't talk about her personal life, much less whatever she knows about her family medical history … no, she doesn't confide in me … I don't know, because I'm not smart? We get along, but I'm not her type. If you want someone her type why don't you ask her boss? … No, I'm kidding, please don't fire me. Dr. Bitch wouldn't accept that anyways … Look, I'm sorry I can't get results, she's not just an open book and apparently, I'm not hot enough to make up for being dumb … No, please don't, Al–" Shay scoffs, presumably because she was hung up on.

I peak around the corner and watch as Shay gets in a car parked on the front street. I wait until she turns onto a different block before finally rounding the corner and starting my climb up the stairs to Cosima's apartment. The whole way up, I think about Shay's last words: Al. It could be a name, either just Al or something that starts with Al obviously.

I knock quickly on her door, out of breath from racing up the stairs. When she doesn't answer right away, I start getting sick to my stomach. I know there's no reason because Shay gave the impression that Cosima was fine, fooled by the ruse, whatever it is.

"Cosima, let me in. I need to talk to you," I try to keep the nerves out of my voice, but she knows me too well to believe it.

The door flies open and Cosima yanks me inside. She locks the door behind us and turns to me. "Dr. Cormier, I think something weird just happened to me..."

"Does it have to do with Shay?" I wondered if she was clever enough to see through Shay's phoniness. Cosima's still latched onto my arm. She doesn't look so good.

Apparently, her worry doesn't involve Shay, which means there are more things to worry about. I take a seat on her couch and try to not look nervous, but know it's not working. Gradually, I reveal what I heard downstairs, and she listens intently, her typical smile absent. Eventually, she makes her way to the couch and takes a seat next to me, though I've finished explaining already. She doesn't say anything for a while, processing I assume.

"Dr. Cormier, I think my thing may indeed have to do with Shay..." she breaks the long moment of silence.

"What do you mean? How? What's your thing?" I can't help throwing out all my questions at once.

"When I got back, my whole apartment felt off, it smells weird. I don't know how to explain it. I just know my space. Anyway, my books, papers, everything on my desk," she waves her hands in the general area of these items, "I know they were moved. Like, it looks like a mess, but I have a system and that is not how I left my shit".

"Okay, so you got robbed. That sucks, but what does that have to do with Shay?" I know I sound like a complete asshole, but a simple robbery isn't necessarily related. She doesn't live in a great neighborhood – the park across the street is full of drug dealers, all the buildings are run down, and the neighboring apartment has a musky, alcohol, marijuana scent radiating from the door every time you walk by.

"First of all, fuck you. Second, nothing was taken. And third, Shay didn't even ask if I wanted her to take me to see a doctor, she just fucking showed up. She was super insistent and pushier than normal. Listen, what if Shay was just supposed to get me out of my apartment for a few hours so somebody could go through my shit?" she gets up and moves to her desk, holding up a small stack of papers. "Dr. Cormier, I keep your essays in this drawer, mostly so I don't spill something on them. I found them on my desk when I got back. These have my notes all over them, you know, the ones that point out shit..."

I'm starting to get what she means, though I don't understand why my college essays would be of any significance or how anyone would even know they were here. "Why...why are they so interested in you?" I don't think Cosima is a part of some international drug ring or working undercover for a foreign government.

"Seems like everyone is nowadays. Shay, you, and now the mystery intruder," she saunters back over to the couch and sits at my side. She crosses her legs and rests her head on her palm, head turned to stare at me. I can't believe she's going into this now. Can she not take anything seriously?

"I'm not interested," I make sure not to look in her direction. I'm really not interested in Cosima romantically, and I don't know why I kissed her back. Maybe I was intimidated because she just approached without warning, her hand was on my neck. Clearly, I thought she was going to strangle me. That's the only explanation. Maybe I thought she was going to strangle me and, instinctually, I accepted the kiss to...save my life? It's a stretch.

"Careful, Cormier. Remember what happened the last time you said that?" she doesn't move, but she indiscreetly examines my lips. I get the same feeling I had after she kissed me at the office. The aching reminds me of yet another struggle: I don't know how to get myself out of this emotional mess. I want to be strong enough to resist, unlike this morning when I was the one to pull her closer. It makes no sense why I would do that.

"Cosima, this is not the time. There's something going on here," I lean back on the couch and fold my arms over my chest. It's minimal, but I'm farther away from her here.

"Yes, there is something going on here. I'm glad you agree," she smirks and slowly turns, swings her leg over mine, and settles on my lap, straddling me comfortably, resting her arms over my shoulders. "C'mon, it's not like we're gonna be murdered tonight," she says in that raspy voice, sliding herself forward slightly, bringing us closer. The whole thing is done at a glacial pace and I know exactly why. She's giving me plenty of time to refuse, reject, scold, push, say anything at all to stop her and I simply don't. She knows that I know that. The fact that it's seductive doesn't hurt either.

"Cosima..." I say quietly, a combination of uncertainty and warning. Although, I don't know what I'm warning her about. Don't kiss me and sit on my lap and look at my lips or else I'll...let the whole thing happen if not fully participate. God, this is all my fault. I'm leading her on. I'm letting her believe that this could be a thing.

"I have a question," she says. It seems like she's not going to progress any further, at least for now. "Why is it that you seemed so comfortable with that kiss? I've kissed straight girls before, granted most of them were drunk. Even then though, there was either nervous, weird tension, or sloppiness. You, however, you gay-kiss like a pro. What's that all about?"

I really don't want to get into this right now, especially not with her sitting on my lap but, I'm noticing that when she's close like this, I fade into some trance that hinders any action that would put space between us. Apparently, rendering me speechless, too. She shrugs her shoulders, waiting for an answer. I hesitate, "You're not the first girl I've..." I can feel my cheeks burning up.

"I knew it!" she smiles, obviously very content with our conversation. She slides her upper body closer, letting her arms fold around the back of my neck. I can feel her breath on my lips. A slight lightheadedness makes its way to me. "So, tell me everything".

I hate that I'm still in such a state of weakness. Physically, I am much stronger than Cosima. I could easily just lift her off of me. "Why were you preaching about how this wasn't a good idea, I'm your boss, all of that before when I was here last, but now you seem perfectly fine with it?"

"Well," her confidence dims for a moment before turning into bashfulness, "I think I might legitimately like you, and I didn't want the first _anything_ to be awesome for me and a drunken mistake for you, you know? It just wouldn't count as anything. Also, nice distraction work, but you can't get around telling me about whatever _experiences _you've had..."

"You like me?" I ask, stunned. For some reason, that makes everything feel different. I guess I thought of her more as a 'player' before. All this flirting was just a game and once she won, she'd let things be. That's half the reason I didn't want my emotions involved. They would only hurt me in the end.

"Yeah, don't read too far into it, Dr. Cormier. And don't get weird about it, either. Like at work, just be cool, okay? It's not like I'm asking anything of you. Just...now you know," she glances at my lips again, a slight smirk on hers. How can she say something like that so easily? I never would've been able to confess that readily. I typically can't admit it to myself, much less the person. She is fearless.

Against my better judgement, my head tilts to brush my lips along hers, curiosity. She accepts the peck, doesn't ask for anything more. Again, she's making all of this my decision, she's letting me choose and somehow, I'm still choosing her.

"I'll admit," her voice is slightly softer, quieter, "This is a much more effective distraction, but you're not getting out of my question..." she kisses me on the cheek and sits up further, distancing out lips. I feel like an insolent child who isn't getting their way.

"I spent most of my youth, all of my adolescence locked in an all-girl facility. Not many long-term residents made it out without having experimented. Not that interesting," I lean back again.

"Was your first relationship with a female?" she asks. We're having a completely normal (kind of) conversation with her straddling me. With her, it doesn't feel weird. It is, but it doesn't feel like it. She can normalize anything.

"I suppose so. Although, I've always considered myself straight, even throughout those relationships..." I think about it for a moment. It doesn't really make sense that I would've thought that.

"Oh, my goodness, how many lesbian relationships did you have Dr. Cormier?" Should it feel so weird, her still calling me Dr. Cormier?

"Only a few. Probably not as many as you've had," I say absentmindedly, regretting it as soon as I see her face. She doesn't look angry, but a little offended. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that..."

"I know," she just looks at me. Her expression is serious. I don't know what to say.

"How many relationships have you had?" I decide that maybe it's better to get the facts.

"With women, or in general?" her features soften a bit and she cocks her head.

"In general, I guess..."

"Hm, had one boyfriend throughout high school, one girlfriend before I started college, and one girlfriend during college," she nods after she finishes.

"That's all?" I try to keep the surprise out of my voice with little success.

"Yeah, turns out I'm not the whore you think I am," she licks her lips, I can't help but notice.

"It's not that...just...the way you flirt with everyone...I just thought..." my focus is slowly draining.

"I don't flirt with everyone," she grins and I'm not sure why.

"You flirt with Shay..." I know I sound like I'm pouting.

"Oh my God, are you still jealous of Shay? That's fucking adorable," she giggles at me and I can't really defend myself. That's exactly what it looks like, even though I'm not. I look petty and immature, but it's just because Shay is a distraction from Cosima's work. Shay also crosses boundaries she shouldn't, and I've never trusted her. Cosima should've listen to me about her.

"Cosima?" she hums a response, "What are we going to do?" I rest my forearms across her thighs and knot my fingers together.

"About what?" she grasps lightly onto my arms, her thumb strokes gently. It would be calming if she wasn't still in her precarious position.

"All of this. The Shay thing, the real reason you coughed up blood today, whoever 'Al' is, everything".

"Well," Cosima slides her hands up my arms and back to their original position on my shoulders. "The 'Al' dilemma is pretty obvious, but what we're going to do is figure it out tomorrow".

"Wait, you know who 'Al' is? Who is it?"

"Of course, and I'm pretty surprised that you haven't already jumped to the conclusion. However, I'm not saying a word about it until tomorrow," she shrugs, that cocky grin spread thickly across her face.

"Tell me now, Cosima. There's no reason to wait until tomorrow," I try to add some authority into my tone.

"Uh, you can't make me, and yes there is. We have to wait until tomorrow because I said so. This isn't really work related, you have no power over me," she has a point...

"I could fire you," my voice is stern for once, but she just laughs.

"You wouldn't dare. You'd miss me too much," she leans closer again, a more playful smile taking over, and kisses my nose.

"What, miss you climbing all over me, saying every racy thing that comes to your mind, destroying my filing system, kissing me at work? I don't think so," I can hear myself playing along, even though I don't want to.

"Where would you prefer me kiss you, then?" she leans even closer so that we're inches apart, her hands move to hold my neck.

"That's the only issue you care to address?" I will resist the urge, the temptation that she's dangling in front of me. I will resist.

"Well, I can't just stop my 'raciness' and I'm no good at filing, so those can't be helped. As for the climbing all over you, I don't know what you're talking about..." she licks her lips again, just barely missing my own lips in the process. "At any point, you're welcome to kick me off. Just ask and I'll, you know, make room for Jesus..."

"I...I..." I stutter, I can't make up my mind. She doesn't move.

"By the way," I can practically feel her words on my skin, "You're a great kisser. I mean, we only kissed for a few seconds, but I can tell you're quite skilled," she looks down at my lips. She's so close that it almost looks like her eyes are closed. "Well, anyways, it's getting late. Almost eight o'clock. So, do you want to go home, stay on my couch, or, I dunno, something else?" she sighs, and I can feel the air tickling my lips. She knows what she's doing, and she's very effective.

"I...should probably go home," I reply softly, a whisper.

"Oh, you definitely _should _go home, we both work in the morning, but what do you _want _to do?" Dammit, I know the correct answer to this: go home. I can't bring myself to choose that. I need to choose it, though.

"H-home," I barely get out.

Cosima leans as close as possible, her lips brushing against mine as she smiles and whispers in response, "Well, let me walk you down". She jumps up off my lap abruptly, leaving me cold and weightless. How is this happening to me? Never in my life have I ever been so tested by my own will power. I already regret my decision.

* * *

Cosima's tardiness really isn't that bothersome, it gives me a reason to yell at her. On most days, that is. But this morning, it is plain awful. I think she may even be late on purpose today. It doesn't help that she's the one who brings me coffee every day. I really don't mind getting my own coffee, but since I got my first assistant, I've always had them do it. The previous Department Director told me it would enforce the hierarchy. Every morning, their first duty is to fetch my coffee. At first, I felt guilty about it, but I got used to it pretty quickly.

It is almost ten o'clock when Cosima finally decides to show up. She sets the cup on my desk, out of breath, apologizes, and retreats to her desk without another word. Normally, I would prefer this type of interaction, but since Cosima and I have become...closer...I find myself wanting a little more. Something more substantial. I shouldn't.

"Cosima," I call her in using my 'boss voice'.

"Yes, Dr. Cormier?" she peaks her head around the corner. She's still out of breath.

"Why are you so late today? Almost an hour and a half. It's a bit much, even for you". She smiles that mischievous smile of hers and invites herself into my office. She leans on my desk and crosses her arms.

"Miss me that bad?" I walked right into that one.

"No. I just don't want to see this become a habit".

"Nah, couldn't really sleep so, I woke up late," she explains.

"Oh? Is everything alright," I try not to look at her, to seem indifferent.

"Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I was just kind of terrified that someone was going to come back and, you know, finish the job," she laughs, but I can see how anxious she is. Should I not have left last night? When she asked if I wanted to stay, was she really asking so she didn't have to be alone? Well, if that was the case then it was her fault for making it very unclear.

"Right, well, I'm glad you're alive," I hear my tone soften involuntarily.

"Are you now?" her smile widens.

"Yes, because it's tomorrow morning now and you said you'd tell me who 'Al' is," I hardly finish the sentence when she covers my mouth with her hand and stretches to check the hall.

"What the fuck?" she whispers loudly, uncovering my mouth. I raise my hands and shrug my shoulders. "Be quiet about it, okay? And...have you really not figured it out yet?"

"No, Cosima. If I had, I wouldn't be begging you for the answer, would I?" I loudly whisper back.

"This is you begging? Huh, I pictured it a bit differently..." she brings her hand up to her face and lays a finger over her lips. I keep quiet, knowing full well that she can twist anything I say into whatever she wants it to mean. "You wanna know how I pictured it?" she slowly turns toward me, placing her hands on the arm rests of my chair and leaning over me. She's nowhere near as close to me as she was last night, but it's still enough to rattle me.

"Cosima..." I breath out, as seems to be customary when she dances on this boundary. She kneels down until she's on her knees and moves her hands to my thighs. I really need to get myself out of this situation, but I can't seem to move. And the problem is right there: I need to move, but I don't want to move. It's inappropriate, we're at work, I'm her boss...so many reasons to just roll my chair back, but unfortunately, my body has an opinion of its own right now and it doesn't want to move.

Suddenly, Cosima drops her head down and starts sobbing overdramatically. The relief alone causes a smile to pull at my lips. "Oh Cosima," she cries in a horrific French accent, "I beg you, please tell me zee answer. Oh almighty, intelligent one, do bestow upon me your great knowledge. I will work off my debt wizzz decades of hard labor. Your vinery will be magnificent," at that, I cannot help but let out a laugh as I'm reminded of the trip to Canada. She bows her head lower and claps her hands together like she's praying. "So, please your excellency, what is–"

"Dr. Cormier?" the smile flees from my face as both Cosima and I jump into more suitable positions. I sit up straight in my chair and she hops up to her feet. It's too late, though, Dr. Leekie is has already seen the theatrics.

"Dr. Leekie, sorry, Cosima just..." I can't think of any believable excuse for why Cosima was praying at me in a French accent.

"No no, you're going to tell it wrong, make me look crazy," Cosima says after an awkward, too-long moment of silence. It's rare that I actually appreciate interruptions or the finishing of my sentences. "We were talking about her favorite, uh, author and Dr. Cormier here was like 'My favorite is his first book, Betwixt and Between' and I was like 'Dude that wasn't his first, it was Nuptials, you stupid head' and she wasn't logged onto her computer at the time so she couldn't just look it up and prove it, and…uh…but I was like 'I've got a smartphone, I'll have the answer in seconds and you'll be begging for it. Then she was like 'I wouldn't be able to physically bring myself to begging you' and I was like 'Easy, I'll show you exactly how you'd beg' and then I did and then you walked in and Dr. Cormier would've totally just told you that I was nuts and just started doing it for no reason. So there," she takes a huge breath since that whole monologue was done without pause.

"Okay..." Dr. Leekie seems convinced.

"Right, thanks, I'll take my leave now," Cosima exits with a pale face. She gives me an odd look that I can't really identify. She glances once at Leekie before disappearing.

"What can I do for you, Dr. Leekie?" I bring his attention back from Cosima's performance.

"Oh, um, I was going to call, but since I was in the neighborhood, so to speak, I thought I'd drop by really quick. Would you be able to stop by my office after lunch? I'd like to talk to you about something important".

"Yes, sure. I'll be there," I nod, and he gives me a cheesy smile before leaving. I hear Cosima greeting him cheerfully from her desk. I sigh and turn back to my computer. Thank goodness it had gone to sleep, leaving the screen black and backing up Cosima's story.

"Figure it out yet?" I hear her voice from behind me. I turn and see her closing my office door. She takes her usual position, leaning on my desk beside my chair.

"Figure what out?" I swivel her way and lean back, thinking about the speech she gave Leekie.

"Who the fuck 'Al' is?" she crosses her arms again. She's waiting for an answer that I just don't have. Cosima rolls her eyes and sighs, "Who's the guy who's always sketchy, the guy you hate, the guy who thought your opinions about science were not...correct, the guy who knows things about me that he really shouldn't, the guy who has everyone call him by his first name..."

"Aldous..." I realize how thoughtless I was for not thinking of that right away. "Aldous Leekie. Cosima, he just asked me to stop by his office after lunch. Do you think it has something to do with recent events? Do you think he knows that I heard Shay's conversation? Is he having us followed?" I start to hyperventilate. Cosima puts her hands on either side of my head, holding me still. Her expression is serious.

"Hey, don't freak out, okay? Everything is fine, he wouldn't do anything here anyways. You're safe," the pressure from her warm hands helps me breathe. Meaningless social scripts like that – everything is fine, it will all be okay, don't worry – they never make me feel any better. But for whatever reason, Cosima's words help. Her voice is soft and soothing.

"What do I do, Cosima?" I close my eyes and try to keep the calmness in my breathing.

"How about I text you like ten or fifteen minutes after you get there and if you don't text back saying you're okay, I'll come blazing through with security?" I stare at her for a minute, but nod. I don't know if her offer was real, but I'll take it either way. She nods back and moves to the door.

"Wait, Cosima," I almost forgot. "My favorite author...how did you know?" she smiles, a twinkle in her eye.

"You mentioned it a while ago. And you only carry around one book with you, so it would be hard to forget," she explains. I think of past partners and friends who'd never remember something like that. I think she puts more effort into me than she realizes.

"And you know his books...not even his most popular ones..." I poke further.

"I looked him up, just out of curiosity. Seemed like a pretty cool dude... Do you know what his actual first book was?"

"Mmm, his first novel is the one I carry around, but I think his first book was Christian Metaphysics, or something like that," I don't know why, but it feels odd talking to her like this...casually, even though we've passed casual a while ago.

"Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, good luck with Leekie," she says cheerily and leaves the office for good.

The morning passes by quickly, and by the time lunch hour comes around, I'm too nauseous to eat. I sit at my desk and stare at my computer screen, the screen saver distracting me just enough to not pass out. Cosima peaks in my office about a quarter to one.

"Good luck. Don't freak out. Text me back. You'll be fine. Breathe," she nods and only disappears when she sees me nod back. I decide to start heading to his office now. It's not like I'm getting any work done here.

Dr. Leekie's office is on the third floor, which I've always found odd. He's the CEO, shouldn't he be on the top floor? Cosima and I work on the fifth floor, all the labs are in the basement. It's incredibly unorganized.

Dr. Leekie's office used to be a lab, one of three. He chose the center one to be his official office and the other two on either side of him are for his own projects. That's probably why he chose it. He prefers his side projects, whatever they are. I suspect he tries growing wings on rabbits. The entirety of the two vacant labs surrounding him are full of test tubes, pictures, formulas. It looks like a science classroom. A bit cheesy, actually. I'm sure the fridges of test tubes in the back are just full of various fruit juices.

Being a scientist himself, I wonder why he's the CEO instead of someone like the Department Director. He rarely does CEO work, leaving that to his board and COO. All the filing cabinets in his office are probably just for show – empty. Maybe he's just for show, too. He's the face of the company, a progressive scientist with big ideas.

"Dr. Cormier, come in," he says when he notices me outside his door. I sit down in front of his desk as he gets up to close the door to his office. The fact that all the doors and front walls of his office are made of glass is comforting. It makes me feel a little less isolated, not that anyone is ever around. Why is no one ever on this floor?

"Is everything alright, Dr. Leekie?" I ask innocently. There are a few files open on his desk – what looks like intern applications. His computer displays a document that I can't quite read, but I notice 'Thesis' in the header. Is he reading essays?

"More or less," he answers ambiguously. "At the moment, we have a groundbreaking, revolutionary project going on. It will help in all sorts of scientific fields, even soft sciences like psychology".

"That sounds great, I hope it goes well," I try to keep the resentment out of my voice.

"Yes, it seems to be going fine. We've had a little bump, though. It seems one of the...subjects...has been rather uncooperative with its handler," I was hoping he wouldn't go into detail. "You see, these handlers are supposed to monitor the physical and mental health of the subjects, and this particular handler wasn't able to fulfill that job. So, I was actually hoping you would consider joining the project," he finishes, an eerie feeling flushing the room.

"Euh, mental health? What kind of project is this?" I try to stay calm. At least it doesn't seem like he's going to kill me.

"Well, they're human trials. They were recruited years and years ago, when they were infants. Their parents submitted them into the study, and we've been following them ever since. It's completely observational, data collecting. All the participants are in their late twenties now, so we're just starting to build some relevant trends," he says everything with a smile.

"If they're all in their twenties, why can't they self-report?"

"Uh, well, you see...they were recruited because of their, uh, genes. They all have something in common. A, uh…a rare birth defect, if you will. They're a very special bunch. You wouldn't know it from looking…well I guess it depends on who you're looking at," he smiles to himself. I know Cosima is involved in this somehow, probably what Shay was going on about. She was reporting observations… "Anyway, the study is about how the disease runs its course based on lifestyle and mood, things like that, and we want to interfere as little as possible. That means not telling them about the study..."

"What?" keeping my voice down is becoming difficult. I try to convey mild shock, but it's anger that's fueling me.

"It's what their parents consented to and the contracts were laid out so that consent would continue through adulthood. It's complicated lawyer jargon, and I can't get into the details. The important thing is, the subjects' lives are untouched. No years of medical testing and useless treatment. The only time we come in is when their monitor reports certain symptoms. And even then, we don't disclose the study, we only send in our doctors to administer what they need," he explains rather defensively.

"What is it that you're asking of me, then?" he seems to 'chill out' as Cosima would say.

"Well, this situation we have, the one with the ineffective monitor, what we need is a new monitor. That's where you'd come in". He's actually taking Shay's advice. How ineffective was she?

"Why would you think I'd be more effective than the previous person?" I wonder if he'll actually name Cosima.

"Ah, for that, I will need you to sign a confidentiality form. Here," he hands me a clipboard with a few stapled pages and a pen, "This states that you agree to not disclose any information shared here with you today. It's for both the confidentiality of the study and the privacy of the subject. It doesn't mean you agree to anything".

"Okay..." I sign the bottom of both pages, looking over it quickly. It looks like any other disclosure or confidentiality form.

"Great, I'll take that," he slides the form into a file in his bottom desk drawer and locks it. "Now, your question: why would you be a better monitor? Simply because you are closer to the subject than the current monitor," he smiles. It seems devious and I'm starting to regret signing anything for him.

"I know the subject?" I ask innocently.

"Of course, you do. She works for you," he says it like it's some kind of insult, like he's hit me with something big. It at least confirms that he doesn't suspect I already know.

"Cosima?" I try to add more intonation to support my false surprise. Cosima would be better at this. He nods, looking like he won a game.

"Her previous monitor couldn't seem to get close enough to her to provide sufficient data. All we want is someone to be there for her. The intrusion of medical testing and constant checkups can deter someone from their dreams, potentials, a life. We truly care about these subjects. Even if they don't know us, we have become close. All of the monitors, the people behind the scenes, it's like a big family".

I want to argue, to mention the privacy he's already breaching by accessing personal information without their knowledge. That his secret 'family' is kind of sick. But I know I can't - not if I want to stay in the loop. If I take this position, I could at least allow one subject to know what is happening. Cosima's a scientist, she'd understand the study better than some other grocery clerk subject.

"What is this disease? Will Cosima be okay?"

"Now that, I cannot say. Monitors aren't privy to the medical details and the team who analyses them don't know much on your side. She'll be fine, though, I promise. We wouldn't continue a study if we saw something happening that would put our subjects' lives in danger".

"Double blind..." I murmur to myself. "What would I do about my current position?"

"Oh, that you'll keep. The compensation you'd get from monitoring could just be added to your paycheck, if you like. The reason you'd be a better fit is because you spend the most time with Cosima, as she works directly with you. It's a tough case because she doesn't have as much of a social life as her fellow subjects, so finding friends or people to befriend her is hard. It doesn't seem like it from the outside, but looking at the statistics, Cosima would be considered isolated. She doesn't let people in". I feel a vibration in my pocket. Cosima's text probably. "I know you two have been spending more time together, and that's very helpful, but that doesn't mean she's actually letting you in. You understand?"

"How am I supposed to break that barrier?" How close does he think we are?

"No worries, you don't have to. The mental health is just good extra information. What we're mostly looking for is physical symptoms that you'd see on a daily basis. If you do end up breaking down that barrier, more power to you. Quite a few monitors actually end up in relationships with their subject".

"Can...can I think it over?" I hear my voice becoming smaller.

"Of course, of course. Take your time," he gets up to open his office door. "Remember, Dr. Cormier, confidential. You signed," he warns threateningly.

I nod and quickly slip back out into the hallway. I take out my phone while I head back to my floor.

**1:06 PM**

**Cosima:** _in need of rescue? Shall I send in the brigade? _

I smile to myself for no real reason. After I round the corner to the stairs and elevators, I stop to text back, leaning against the wall and grinning at my phone.

**1:08 PM**

**You:** _All is well, merci._

"Do you always have that look on your face when you text me?" I hear Cosima's voice above me. She's sitting at the top of the first flight. Her phone beeps on the floor.

"Why are you there? How long have you..." I want to just simply be confused, to distract her from her observation of my expression. Why did I have that silly smile?

"Oh, I came down here like five minutes after you left. I got too nervous," she stands, and I make my way up to her.

"I thought you said there was nothing to worry about?"

"Hell no, I was lying!" she says as though it should have been obvious to me. We continue walking up together. "Yeah, you can see into his office if you walk by since it's a fishbowl, but there are no other people here. He has most of this hall to himself and the employees in the other halls from this floor don't drop by a whole lot. You want to know how many people I saw in the ten minutes I was sitting there?" she points down to her claimed landing.

"Two?" I never notice people in my own hallway, so I don't have enough relative information to guess.

"Zero, Cormier. And he could totally kill you and stuff you in some machine in that weird office of his...just saying...total lie, I was prepared for your death or a fight. Maybe a standoff..." she ponders the possibilities.

"How comforting..." I don't know if I'm pissed or not.

"T's'all good, you made it out alive. What did he want?" We both pause when we hear the stairwell door open on the next floor up, slamming loudly against the wall behind it. There's really no danger, but I guess we're both just a little paranoid right now.

"Cosima? Dr. Cormier?" The unmistakable voice makes its way down to us. Shay jogs down and stops in front of us. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Cormier had a meeting with Aldous. It was taking so effing long, so I was going to crash the party, but on my way down the stairs, I ran into Cormier," Cosima is very good at making lies up on the spot. It's helpful but makes me worried about what she tells me. "And you? What are you doing down here? Isn't Mr. Mitchell on the same floor as us?"

"Oh, just...delivering a message to…someone else down here. Um, hey Cosima, I was wondering...what are you doing tonight?" Shay glances at me, a fire in her eyes.

"International Sumo Wrestler Ping-Pong Match...duh?" I like that she can keep a straight face through her fibs, too.

"You don't really look like a sumo wrestler..." Shay returns.

"I'm a judge, obviously. Why, is everything okay?" I watch Cosima's hair sway while she talks. It's elegant in an eccentric way.

"Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to see if you would be willing to have dinner with me...maybe a movie?" she's speaking with such desperation, it's not hard to tell why she's asking. I'd be taking her job...

"Aw, man, that sounds awesome. It's just...I'm dating someone right now and I think it's probably better we don't," Shay looks at me, the fire burning brighter.

"Yeah," she says through her teeth. "Okay," she continues down the stairs, bumping my shoulder on the way.

"Why do you think–" Cosima starts before I shush her. I point up the stairwell in the direction of our office.

I only speak again once Cosima closes the office door behind us. "Okay," I start, but freeze up at the thought of Leekie's snake eyes watching me.

"What? What's wrong?" Cosima is struggling to keep her own cool, I notice.

"Nothing, I just don't think this is the best place to talk," I glance around the office, not really knowing what to look for.

"Dude," she steps closer so I can hear her whisper, "What the fuck? What did he say? Did he threaten you? If you need, like, some kind of protection, we can go to the police? What happened down there, Cormier? You think they have fucking cameras and snipers in here or–"

I take half a step forward and settle my hands on either side of her head, just as she did to me earlier. I tilt her head back slightly so that she looks at me, "Hey, don't freak out. We'll talk later". I see her expression calm down, but her eyes dilate. I step back before my body does something stupid against my will. "Ehm, so chez moi ou chez toi?"

Cosima grins and leans back against my desk, "I thought you'd never ask, doc. Hm, either is fine...No, my place. I've got my thinking herbs there," she smiles, winks, and takes a drag from an imaginary joint between her fingers. I smile and shake my head. When I think about it, Cosima is right: I never really smile. Lately, though, I've been smiling easier. Not with everyone...actually just with Cosima, I guess. Why is that? Why can't my logical scientific brain figure it out? Why her?

* * *

It's exactly seven o'clock when I knock on Cosima's door. I hear a quick yelp before she shouts from inside, "It's unlocked!"

It feels weird, but I let myself in. I'm greeted by an odd burning smell. Cosima's apartment is very open, so I can see her clearly struggling in the kitchen. It seems she spilled something and is grabbing a handful of paper towel to clear it from the stove.

"Cosima, stop!" I quickly make my way through her apartment and, thankfully, she looks up at me before starting her task. I snatch the paper towel out of her hand. "Ugh, à quoi pensais-tu?!"

"I don't know, that I'd be clean for once in my life?" she answers without hesitation. I wonder exactly how much French she knows, because she often understands the majority of what I say...

"Cosima, you have an open flame right there and you were about to...Ugh, you worry me. What are you doing anyway?" I look at the mess that's covering her stove and counter. I can't even identify what I'm smelling.

"Uh, cooking...duh?" I can't even tell if she's being sarcastic. "Thought I'd try it out".

"You're not cooking, you're...incinerating," I take my jacket off and lay it over the back of her couch. She watches me while I examine her kitchen, trying to figure out what she's making.

"In my defense, the current uh...situation that you see here is not what's burning. What you're smelling is probably coming from the trash," she nods her head in the direction of a bin by the counter. I peak in and see a lump of darkened pasta and some creamy substance covering parts of the bin's contents.

"What...Cosima how do you burn pasta? It's one of the simplest things to make. And what's the...sauce?"

"First, take your goddamn shoes off, high heels," I roll my eyes, but do as she says, setting them by the door. "The sauce, well the sauce in the trash, I tried to make from scratch. I can't really remember what I put in it, but when I tried it, I thought it better to just dump it and try again with a packet thing," she explains. I look in the trash again.

"Cosima," I close my eyes and cover my face with my hand, "Please tell me you didn't dump a saucepan of boiling...whatever...straight into your trash can..."

"I..." the tone in her voice already tells me that she did, "...didn't dump a saucepan of boiling whatever straight into my trash can". I chuckle escapes me.

"Alright, well what have you got here?" I turn to the stove.

"Same thing, better method. I have some, like, gravy making packets that you get at the store, so I just used one of those and put some other random shit in there that seemed right. And I changed my method with the pasta making: I turned the burner on instead of letting it sit for half an hour in cold water, and then didn't let it boil for another forty-five minutes. Actually, the pasta should be done by now, right?"

I shake my head and try to keep the laughter in my chest from making an appearance. Instead of confirming, or even directing, I just take over her horrendous job. The gravy sauce concoction doesn't taste half bad and I decide not to ask what else she put in it.

"Why did you choose to cook this evening?" I ask, hoping the answer doesn't have anything to do with me.

"I was hungry when I got home and I...I don't know, wanted to feel accomplished? Like, awesome Cosima, you made this dope ass pasta all by yourself. Nourishment," she dumps the sauce straight into the bowl of pasta.

"Well, there it is. Enjoy your dope ass pasta," I smile at the odd meal as she puts the dirty dishes in the sink.

"Uh, no. That is not completely my accomplishment. You had to come in and finish it. Granted, I probably would've burned the entire complex down if you hadn't," she grabs two forks from the silverware drawer. I'm not sure why, she only has one bowl. "Either way, I finally get to fucking eat".

I follow Cosima to the couch and sit next to her. "Have you really been cooking since you got home?" she pulls her legs up to the couch, makes herself completely comfortable.

"Yep. I wanted to stress eat since you've been holding out on me, but instead I just made a two-hour mess of my kitchen".

"Holding out?" I'm afraid of what she means by that.

"Yeah. The whole reason you're here? Unless you're here just to see me?"

"Oh, yes that. I don't really know where to start," Cosima hands me a fork and sets the bowl on her leg between us.

"The beginning is my suggestion," I take the fork tentatively and stab a noodle.

"Leekie, he offered me a job," I taste the noodle and cringe.

"Please tell me you're making that face because of how much you hate Leekie..." I manage to swallow and shake my head at Cosima. She sighs and tries a bite for herself. "God dammit. I'm ordering Chinese," I laugh as she stomps back into the kitchen and tosses the rest of the pasta.

"It really wasn't that bad..." I try to console. She grabs her phone and dials.

"You're welcome to go fish it out of the trash...Hello, I'd like to order, delivery..." she orders and returns to her seat next to me. "Don't look so stiff. You're sitting like we're in a meeting...but also, get on with it, I've been waiting all afternoon slash evening," I try to mimic her position, but just end up sitting crisscross next to her.

"The job that Leekie offered me is, euh, it's part of a study. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Shay is who I'd be replacing".

"Wait, Shay is a part of a study? That's so fucking unfair, why can't I be a quirky blond assistant and work in a study?"

"You are a part of the study, Cosima," I don't know why I'm so frustrated. She raises her eyebrow at me in disbelief. "That's what Shay was doing, following you around, asking you questions. She's the data collector and you're the data".

"What are you talking about?"

I sigh, "Leekie said that, when you were an infant, he recruited you and...I don't know how many other children, to be a part of a study. Your parents agreed to it apparently".

"I wasn't made aware of this..." she sounds skeptical.

"That's the point, Cosima. You were born with some genetic birth defect or something and the point of the study is to see how it progresses without the person knowing they have it..." the more I hear myself talk, the more I don't believe it myself.

"Well, that's fucking stupid. Knowing whether or not you have something isn't going to make a huge difference in how it progresses, especially if it's a birth defect, which I also wasn't aware of. Unless you don't know about it and don't get, like, medical help if you need it, I could see that making it progress differently, you know, like actually progressing instead of being treated. What the fuck is this defect anyway? Wouldn't I know about it by now?"

"He didn't say. He couldn't tell me much, apparently the study is highly confidential. Oh, and obviously the participants aren't supposed to know about it, so you can't tell him I told you, okay?"

She chuckles, "So, you kind of just fucked up my entire data set, is that it?"

"I guess...but I don't think it's right, whatever he's doing, and I thought that at least one of the participants should know".

"I'm not a participant. That would require me participating. What the fuck does he even do? Have me followed?" she's angry, evidently. I've seen worse tempers, though, and this is warranted.

"Yes, actually. That's what Shay was trying to do but was unsuccessful. And I'm pretty sure that's why she asked you out today, as a last stab at keeping the job," she nods, processes. "That's the job he offered me. He says that I'm somehow the closest person to you. I'd be a monitor. Your monitor". I want her to either validate or invalidate Leekie's assumptions about our relationship. She doesn't do either.

"Oh, thank God, okay," she leans back on the couch and rubs her eyes.

"What?"

"I'd rather have you as a...monitor...than some other random person. You're my inside man," she smiles tiredly at me.

"You're taking all of this really well. Why?"

"Because, Dr. Cormier, I'm determined to get to the bottom of this," she has a hollow kind of gleam in her eye.

"I don't think there's anything to get to the bottom of. It's not an ideal study morally, but it seems straightforward".

"Except for the fact that I was adopted. Did he get consent from my birth parents or my adoptive parents? And how did he get that kind of information? That's not legal. And even if my parents consented, a new consent form should've been given to me when I turned eighteen. He's lying about something".

"He said the consent forms were somehow structured so that it applied to you in adulthood," I explain.

"That doesn't exist, Cormier. Your parent can only consent for you when they're your guardians or if you're, like, in a coma or something. Which, neither is the case for me".

"Well, I don't know, Cosima. Why would he lie about it?" There's a knock at the door. Cosima gets up to answer.

"He'd lie if he has something to hide," she opens the door, takes the bag of food, and pays the delivery man. After taking several boxes out of the bag and setting them on her coffee table, she returns to the conversation, "Like, maybe those contracts don't exist. Maybe whatever top secret study this is, isn't legal. And what fucking birth defect? Did he just have genetic testing done on every infant in America and pick the ones who fit?"

"I don't know," I sit back, feeling somewhat defeated. She's right, the whole thing is sketchy and doesn't make sense.

"What's your job anyways? Do you get paid?" she hands me a pair of chopsticks.

"Yes, I'm not sure how much, he just said it would be added to my current position's paycheck. And I'm supposed to report your mental and physical health. And report possible symptoms of this apparent birth defect, but he hasn't told me what those are yet".

She shakes her head. It's bothering me that she's not smiling. I don't know why, it's just her usual expression and this serious one doesn't suit her. "This is fucking weird, man".

We eat for a while in silence before she speaks again. "Dr. Cormier".

"Hm?" I look up at her. The serious expression is faded, turned into a thoughtful one, the smile still absent.

"You can't, like, agree really easy, you know?"

"What? Agree to what?"

"The position – you gotta take it. Leekie knows your feelings about this type of stuff...maybe...probably. Anyways, it would be weird if you were just all gung-ho about it. You have to play hard to get, kind of. I'm sure you're very good at that," she winks at me and a tint of a smile makes it onto her face. I don't know why it's so relieving. "You have to, like, ask for more money or act like you're not so sure about it. Otherwise he's going to be suspicious. Oh, maybe ask for a bigger office or a chocolate fountain..."

I think for a moment, but it doesn't take long to come up with an idea. "I know exactly what I'll ask for," I smile to myself. I smile despite being terrified of this whole situation.

"I like that look," I hear her say next to me. I turn to see she's staring at me. "Passion. I never see it in you. Looks nice". She gets up to throw the garbage away from the meal. I don't really know what to say. It makes me happy, but it also makes me depressed. How long has it been since I've felt passionate about something? University? Before? "Okay, Cormier. Pick a movie. It's gotta be happy or funny or something so I don't have nightmares tonight from all this Leekie shit".

I take the laptop she hands to me and scroll through the options. I see one of my favorite comedies and immediately point it out.

"This is your choice?" I nod with a smile. "Grumpy. Old. Men...okay, dude," she pulls it up, but pauses it right at the beginning. "Now, I desperately want to watch this in bed, where I watch all my entertainment. It's a huge bed, we could stay at least three feet away from each other, I promise not to climb on you or whatever, but if you aren't comfortable with that, we can watch it here, too," I look at her bed, barely hidden by the wall, no door. I nod again and she picks up the laptop. I follow her in, and she keeps her word, staying on opposite ends of the bed, laptop between us.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of a radio announcer, but it takes me a moment to open my eyes. I turn to the nightstand and see an old radio alarm clock. I smile, it just seems so…_Cosima_. I switch it off and look back to my company. The laptop is still sitting between us, the screen now dark. We both moved a bit closer during the movie and apparently while we slept. I don't even know if we made it through the whole movie.

I look at Cosima, still asleep, on her side facing me. Her hand is resting between us, barely holding onto her glasses. I carefully pluck them out of her grasp and fold them. Cosima looks so different without her glasses. I feel like I've told her that before. Sleeping, she looks...softer. She doesn't have that signature smile of hers, or that look of concentration, and certainly not anger. Although, being Cosima, I wouldn't describe even her resting self 'innocent'. Peaceful maybe.

She's so silent. Even her breathing is barely audible. My body seems to want to take this opportunity and feel how soft she is while she's not conscious enough to make fun of me for it. I know I shouldn't, but as all things are with Cosima, I do anyways. I trace my thumb over her cheekbone, along her jaw, across her lips. She doesn't budge. She must be a deep sleeper if her alarm in addition to my touch haven't woken her up.

I turn to the alarm clock again, checking the time. It's a little past seven and we both need to be to work by eight-thirty. No wonder she's always late. I get up, slowly and carefully so I don't wake her, although I could probably jump on the bed and she wouldn't care.

I step out into her living room, remembering the night before and everything we talked about. This is all too stressful for me, so I can't even imagine what she's going through. And she's right, this is all very strange, Leekie is probably hiding a lot of things, and she's at the brunt of it all. And now she plans on investigating? I would've gone straight to the police, but I guess it would be futile if we can't prove anything.

I turn to look at her once more, still sleeping soundly, and decide to let her rest. Before I leave, I borrow a sticky note and leave my message on the top of her laptop and close it. She deserves a day off. I feel even worse now for treating her so poorly recently.

When I get to work, I feel an unfamiliar determination. A sense of protectiveness and maybe anger are what fuels my courage. I make my way downstairs after putting my bag and jacket in my office. Leekie's door is open and I see him concentrating on something at his desk. I knock on the glass lightly.

"Dr. Cormier, come in," I hate it when he says that. There's not really a reason for it, but I do. I don't bother sitting down, I just close the door behind me. "Have you made your decision already?" he asks sounding like he expected as much.

"I have, but on one condition," he folds his hands in front of him.

"Name it".

"I want the job I applied for, a job in the labs, and I know it's a pay cut, but that's what I want".

He grins eerily, "It's a deal".


	5. Friends

"Oh Jesus, what time is it?" I ask my empty bedroom. My alarm didn't go off apparently, otherwise it would still be playing (like it usually does for about a half hour every morning). Holy shit, it's two in the afternoon. Cormier is going to have my ass. When did she go home? Did I fall asleep before she left? I must have.

My questions are answered when I notice a little green sticky note on top of my computer:

_Stay home today, Cosima. Get some sleep._

Well, that means she's not going to have my ass! That's a relief. I find my phone and call her. I'm not really sure why, I have a free pass today, but I call anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hey, just got your note. I'm not surprised you made sure the punctuation was all proper".

"You just woke up?" I can hear her office chair squeaking the way it does when she leans back in it.

"Yeah, I haven't really been sleeping well. I guess my alarm didn't go off and my body took the opportunity to sleep for, uh...fifteen hours or so".

"I switched your alarm off before you woke up," I smile to myself, thinking about how freaked out she must have been waking up in my bed.

"Well, that was sweet of you".

"You're much more tolerable when you're unconscious," she throws back.

"Whatever. Are you going to come over after work to tell me how it went? If I start cooking now, you may arrive in time for the third attempt of whatever I make".

"Please, dear God, don't cook. I'll pick something up on my way over". If I threaten to cook every night, I wonder if she'd just bring me food every night...

"Hey, I have a question," I take her silence as resigned acceptance to it, "Do you have that same smile when you call me like you did when you were texting me?"

"Goodbye, Cosima," I can hear her exasperated exhale before she hangs up.

I spend my afternoon tidying up, doing the dishes. There's enough of a mess that it takes almost the entire time between the end of our call and her arrival at my door to finish.

"Here," she shoves a big paper bag in my arms. I look inside and see the logo of a great Mexican restaurant. Good choice.

"Nice, well..._spill_," I jump on the couch and pat the space to my right. She gives me a funny look when I don't bother to get plates but doesn't say anything about it. I still fetch a couple glasses of water.

"I am officially your new monitor," she takes the seat next to me. I hand her what looks to be a burrito and take a taco for myself. I didn't realize how hungry I was.

"You know, I think this means we can't make out anymore, Cormier. C'est dommage," I say with a breathy sigh.

"What?" she almost chokes on her food. Ah, sweet denial. She trades out the burrito for a necessary gulp of water.

"It'll be hard at first, but we just can't. I know I'm just, like, some exotic plaything for you, but it really has to stop. I get it, the funky hair, rebellious nose ring, subject of a top-secret project, awesome glasses, you just couldn't help yourself. Don't worry, I'll be strong for both of us," I look over at her and she's got that 'are you done now' look on her face.

"Actually, I'm encouraged to build a close relationship with my subject. Gain trust. Get her to talk," she says, probably not knowing what a bad idea it was to share that with a mischievous little devil like myself.

"Oh, well in that case," I set my taco down and straddle her again like the other night. It's really entertaining to see the turmoil in her eyes. I'm not unfamiliar with it. The way she doesn't touch me back but doesn't push me away. The way she restrains herself, but can't help where her eyes wander, can't help her heartrate from speeding up, can't help the darkening of her eyes. The way she says my name in a cautionary tone but can't seem to say anything else worthwhile.

"Cosima..." like that. A riveting game of cat and mouse.

"Dr. Cormier?" I say back in the same tone. I know she wants to look at me with dagger eyes, but the best she can do is not look at me at all. "How'd the rest of the meeting go?" I decide to help her out a little.

"Oddly normal. I filled out some paperwork, I got a few things to read over, protocol. It was like any other hiring process except with more of an evil scheme feeling to it".

"So, are you getting a bigger office?" I keep my distance as much as I can while straddling her lap. It's great, but she gets too flustered when I'm close.

"No, actually. I'm getting a demotion," she says with a smile.

"I don't think you get this concept of negotiation..." I'm so confused by this woman.

"I asked him for the position I applied for. Like, five years ago. He said yes. I'll start a supervisory position when the new Department Director gets here. About a month".

"Wait, you mean that when I stop being your assistant, I'll still get to see...uh...see to all your bossy needs?" I bite my tongue. I'm usually better at quick thinking.

"Smooth. I don't know, though. I'm just supervising one team and I'm not sure where he'll place you. Probably close so I'm still a viable monitor".

"Well, congratulations on your demotion, I guess," she nods and leans back, obviously adjusting to my placement on her lap. I guess that it's kind of weird, but I am certainly enjoying it. "Hey, did you find out what this mysterious birth defect is?"

"No, it's confidential. I just report my observations and the analysts determine what's important. If I know what the symptoms are, I'm more likely to see them when they're not there," I nod. It's understandable. I mean, in this situation, it's just creepier, but in any other normal study it wouldn't be weird.

"So," I get her attention softly. "Will I be okay? Like, am I dying?" I didn't realize how scared I was until I heard my own words. I look away for a moment.

"Hey," I can feel her hand on my cheek. "Everything will be fine. Leekie said that he wouldn't put any of the participants in harm's way. Don't worry, Cosima. Okay?"

I look down at her, genuine concern in her eyes. I nod and try my very hardest not to cry. I still end up sniffling a bit. "Sorry," I slide off her lap and back to my neighboring cushion. "Let's eat, shall we?"

* * *

"So," I lean in the doorway of Dr. Cormier's office. She's packing what little items she has into a box. "How does it feel to no longer be my superior?"

She looks up at me with that 'oh please' face, "I still have several years on you, and just because I'm not your boss specifically, doesn't mean I'm not still above you in the hierarchy".

"Fair point, but I am ninety-five percent more charming, which is going to open a lot more doors for me than being older will for you".

"Aren't you going to gather your own belongings?" Dr. Cormier leans over her desk and glares at me.

"My phone's in my pocket. I'm done packing," I move to her desk, picking up the box of items. No pictures. Of course, no pictures. "Lead the way".

I insisted on a last task for my assistant-hood, box-carrying duty, which just so happens to also make the doctor look like an ass. She never cared what people thought of her when she was a hot shot upstairs, but I wonder if she'll change her tune in the basement. The elevator dings and we step out onto a floor that Dr. Cormier has never been to apparently.

"I need to find Lab D, my office should be right next to it," she unfolds a small piece of paper with everything written down on it, and then looks around like a lost puppy. I roll my eyes and just start walking to Lab D. She follows eventually. "You know where Lab D is?"

"Yeah, I used to come down here on my lunch breaks. You know, to get away from your pretentious ass," I turn and smile sweetly at her. She sighs, there's not much she can argue with there. "Also, your office isn't next to the lab, it's inside".

"What? Why?" I turn a sharp corner and Dr. Cormier almost runs into the wall. Did I do it on purpose? Who's to say?

"This is why everyone...just...Because, doctor. The people working under you need you to be easily accessible," I stop in front of Lab D and wait for her to get the hint and whip out her new ID badge. She seems to take in what I said, but I don't know that she wants to oblige.

"What are you doing today?" she tries to distract while she unlocks the door to her office, just to the left the main door of the lab.

"After I help you, I'm going to get my ID badge and paperwork stuff done, get assigned, get a coffee, I don't know...where do you want this?" she flips on the light. It's a tiny office and the side facing the lab is just a big window.

"On the desk is fine," I can see her smiling out of the corner of my eye. She seriously likes it here. "I think I need to introduce myself, make some kind of announcement..." she looks out the window, there are eight people in the lab. I think that's the whole team. I recognize most of them.

"Yeah, I'm going to go so I don't have to watch that," she looks at me, confused. "You, asserting your authority, but not being able to tone down the glee," I gesture toward her face. Her smile drops abruptly, and I snort. "Hey, will you come over tonight? Celebrate?" I start backing toward the door.

She looks confused again, like she has no idea what I'm talking about. I wave my hands in the direction of the lab, then her office, "Oh, sure".

I roll my eyes once more before mumbling, "Dumbass," and then quickly escape the lab.

I start heading towards the elevators so I can deal with paperwork and crap. It's going to feel really weird doing errand work that's not on behalf of Dr. Cormier. Documentation, coffee runs, perhaps some filing if I'm lucky.

There's not much for me to fill out since they already have my information. I just sign where the dude tells me to sign. I can't remember his name. John, maybe? I convince him to let me redo my ID picture for my new badge, just for the hell of it. Honestly, I'm procrastinating the move. I really am excited that I finally get a job in the labs, but I've come to enjoy my time with Dr. Cormier. We have a good dynamic and we actually get along. Not that procrastinating during my hiring process will elongate my time with her.

At first, I was thinking about how no one will like her since she's so… _her_, but then I realized that she's probably only that way because she got stuck in a job she didn't want. And now I'm feeling irritated just thinking about her getting along fine with everyone. I can imagine stupid inside jokes that only Lab D understands, Dr. Cormier laughing and smiling and telling people that they're doing a great job. Ugh. And yes, I know I'm jealous. I can admit that, unlike certain imported doctors.

I think about the night I told her that I liked her. I don't regret it and I really don't want her to feel obligated to do anything or whatever, but it's kind of getting to me. This last month has been weird. There's all this ambiguous physical contact, like shoulder touches, hand grabbing type of stuff. Maybe that's totally normal for normal people, but it's not for Dr. Cormier. Seriously, she's the only human that can make 'me straddling her lap on my couch in the evening after we ate a meal together' feel ambiguous. Since the beginning of this monitoring business, I've been too nervous to make any kind of move. I'd love to straddle that woman every night, but I can't bring myself to do it. Afraid of rejection maybe? Or maybe I'm scared she'll get so used to it that she won't get all hot and bothered when it happens.

"Dr. Niehaus?" the hiring paperwork dude, I'm going with John, gets my attention.

"Cosima," I correct him. For the third time.

"Cosima, that was Dr. Leekie," he points at his phone. I don't remember it ringing, "He'd like you to stop by his office after you're through here," John straightens my small stack of papers, hands me a couple pages from the top, and puts the rest in his desk drawer. I take the hint and grab my bag. "Pick your new ID up at the front," one last order before I leave his office.

"You wanted to see me?" I knock on the glass door, trying to get Dr. Leekie's attention as he tinkers with some of the vials in one of the neighboring vacant labs he's claimed.

"Cosima, yes. Please, have a seat," we both move to his desk. I notice the chair on this side is much shorter. I've never noticed that before. His hands fold in front of him when he sits. "Have you visited your assigned lab yet?"

"No, I came straight here after I finished logistics with, uh…John," I use my unsure tone.

"Andrew," he fills in.

"Andrew…not even close. Damnit. Got my ID, though," I hold it up proudly.

"Good, that's good," he pauses, maybe looking for the right words. "Look, you remember the deal we made when you first started?"

"Yeah. Working out as planned so far," I'm not sure where he's going with this, but he better not be taking it back.

"Indeed, it is. It looks like Dr. Cormier also gets to work downstairs," he's dragging this out. Get to the point, man.

"Yeah, that's pretty cool. I hope she's happier there. I know I'll be.".

"I don't doubt it. For either of you," I nod, waiting for the real reason behind my summoning. "So, Cosima," there it is. "It may be best to keep that deal we made to ourselves. I don't want word getting out that anyone can just ask for something like that. You had a special situation".

"Yeah, I feel you. I haven't told anyone," he nods with a relieved expression. "Oh, wait. I did tell Dr. Cormier but I don't think she cares. And also, I didn't really tell Shay about the _deal_, but I told her that I would get to work in the labs after the new director came and Dr. Cormier didn't need an assistant anymore...but that's all". He's not surprised.

"Okay, that's not a problem. Shay is no longer employed with us and I trust Dr. Cormier won't go spreading that around," he smiles a sickly-sweet smile. "Obviously, you do as well," I can tell he's trying to feel out what I think of Dr. Cormier. I could just cut to the chase and say she was a good choice for my monitor.

"I do, actually. She's honest and she doesn't talk shit. I probably trust her more than anyone else here," I don't have to lie, at least.

"It seems like you two have gotten closer?" He's not even being subtle at this point.

"Yeah, I would probably consider her a friend. She's got this reputation that puts people off, but it's not all that accurate. I have a lot of respect for her," I am enjoying this. He thinks he's got everyone fooled, acting all cocky and mysterious. I'm forever grateful that Dr. Cormier told me.

"It's always beneficial to have a good working relationship with your superiors. And with you both working in the labs, our little secret is well hidden," I know he's talking about the deal with me, but it seems to apply to Dr. Cormier, as well.

"Really? How do you figure?"

"Well, the best place to hide something is right under your nose. If you just jumped from being an assistant to working in the labs, people might be suspicious, start rumors. However, with you both jumping jobs, your coworkers might doubt there's a connection". Uh...

"I don't follow," he chuckles at me.

"People don't want to believe it if it's too easy, too obvious. It creates more doubt in a rumor, thus giving it less power," he smiles, pleased with his insight. It seems more like he just wanted to say something smart sounding. It doesn't make sense and it doesn't really apply here. Shit, his ego is outrageous.

"Right," I try to sound like I'm convinced and not like I'm just trying to appease a crazy old man. "I think just not telling anyone will do the trick…"

"Ah yes. Well, I hope you two continue to get along," it seems like he's got all the information he needs. He has that end-of-conversation tone.

After I leave his office, I decide to check out my own lab. I don't start until the beginning of next week, but I'm too excited to wait that long. I'll at least look around. Meet my coworkers. I take the stairs this time, I like the memory of seeing Dr. Cormier smiling while she texts me. And since it was her, I don't even know what a smile like that is supposed to mean. Maybe she's into me and enjoys my texts. Maybe she was just gassy.

I'm almost down to the lab floors when I feel a slight tickle in my throat. When I go to clear it, though, it turns into a full-fledged coughing fit. I have to sit down on the stairs for a few minutes, listening as my wheezes echo through the cement stairwell. When it finally calms down, I'm relieved there's no blood, but I feel too dizzy to stand up right away. Was it ever confirmed that my coughing was part of this weird 'birth defect' I supposedly have? Or am I just developing a chronic bloody cough? I hear the stairwell door open at the bottom of the flight I'm resting on.

"Cosima?" a familiar softly accented voice makes its way up to me.

"Yes, former-boss lady?" There's a hoarseness to my voice that isn't usually there after coughing.

"Are you okay? I heard you from the hall," she walks up the stairs and sits next to me.

"I'm good. How did you know it was me?" I take my glasses off for a moment to rub my eyes.

"I know what your hacking sounds like," she gives me a mom glare with a little grin peeking through.

"Touching. I'm fine, though. You can return to hall-wandering," I don't really want her to go, but I'd feel weird asking her to stay.

"Where were you going? I'll walk you there," she offers. I wink at her with a smile. "To make sure you don't pass out on the way," she specifies. She tries to glare again, but the threat of a smile keeps her from succeeding.

"I was going to check out my assigned lab, meet everyone," she nods.

"Okay, let's go," she gets up and sticks her hand out toward me. I take it, along with the handrail, but it still takes me a moment to get up. "Cosima, I think you should just go home," I give her a look, "But you won't, will you?"

"I'll go home after this, how about?" she grabs my elbow when I start to tip over and shakes her head.

"Come on," she leads me through the halls.

"How do you know which lab I'm going to? I haven't even looked at my..." I try to skim through the papers I was given, but it's starting to get a little blurry. I don't mention that part.

"Because I looked at the list of team members in my lab. I'm assuming you're the only 'Niehaus, Cosima' around here," we turn down the hall that leads to Lab D.

"Dude, no way!" she rolls her eyes again and goes to open the door. "Hey, Cormier. If we go in there with you clinging onto me, people might get ideas..." she quickly lets my elbow go, forcing me to brace myself on the wall.

"Let's get this over with so you can go home," she holds the door open for me.

"So chivalrous, merci," I make my way inside, and even though I made fun of Dr. Cormier earlier, I can't help but smile brightly at my new workplace. It's so weird that this has been in the same building the entire time. It is a humongous building.

"Cosima!" I hear a male voice call from my right.

"Scott, I totally forgot you were down here!" I carefully make my way over to hug him.

"Yeah, you haven't come down for lunch in a long time. What's with that?" I give him a guilty shrug. Scott shows me to my station, unfortunately not by his, the last clear space by the wall. I'm introduced to the three new interns and one other lady I don't recognize, but everyone else I already know just waves from where they're sitting. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dr. Cormier awkwardly retreating to her office.

"So, I have to go home for the day, but I'll see you on Monday, okay?" I nudge Scott.

"Aw, man. You can't stay for the rest of the day? It's almost three-thirty," I look at the clock above the lab door. I can't believe the morning and half the afternoon went by so fast.

"Uh, we'll see. I'm going to go talk to Dr. C, give me a minute," he nods and goes back to his station.

"Knock, knock," I step into Dr. Cormier's office and she looks up at me like she _wasn't_ watching that whole interaction. "When do you get off?"

"Everyone leaves at five, and I stay to inspect and lock up the lab. So, five-thirty maybe. Why?" She's got a suspicious glint in her squinted eyes.

"Two hours, hmm," I contemplate. I am feeling better now. "I'm going to stay for the rest of the day, hang out with Scott, and then when you get done, you could give me a ride home and we can eat out...I mean order delivery," I wink at her and she blushes. That's better. Lately she's just gone back to ignoring me.

Dr. Cormier looks out the window at Scott and I can see the tint of envy in her eyes. I wish she could vocalize her feelings as well as she sucks at hiding them. "You shouldn't distract him from his work, Cosima. He has things to do," she says in a faux authoritative voice.

"Okay, if you don't like me hanging around other guys, I get it. I'll sit at my station and doodle," she tries to interject, but I don't let her, "Don't worry. I'm all yours," I duck out of her office before she can say anything.

After I shoo Scott off, he stays at his station, occasionally glancing my way with a raised eyebrow. I look around my own station, the drawers on the side are empty aside from a notepad and dried out pen. I get a few funny looks from the rest of the team as the afternoon drags on. I'm just a random girl sitting at an empty desk without a lab coat or literally anything to do.

People start cleaning up around four, except for Scott because he's Scott. By the time the clock makes it to five, everyone is already gone, including Scott. The lights on the opposite side of the room time off, making me feel like I'm in a spotlight. I peek into the office and see that her light is still on and her head is down. She's probably busy doing important things. Or she's procrastinating.

I decide to help out and start looking over the lab. There's a clipboard by her office door with a checklist. It's a very tedious inspection list. Make sure all doors to the fridges are closed, clear all stations of miscellaneous items, restock the staffs' personal weed and LSD stashes, the basics. I'm well over halfway done with it by the time Cormier comes out of her office. She looks beat.

"Here," I hand her the clipboard. "I'm sure you'll want to go over what I've already done," she's so anal sometimes.

She doesn't say anything for the longest time, just looks back and forth from around the room to the checklist. She marks the remaining tasks on the list and hangs the clipboard back up. I give her a look, hopefully it's coming off as concerned.

"I trust you," she explains in a soft voice. "Would you like a ride home?"

"Oh no, there's no way I'm letting you get out of coming over. It's a double first day on the job," she sighs, but looks less tired, somehow. Was she just acting tired so I wouldn't make her come over? "Don't worry, there won't be some huge party, I know how to adjust for my guests. C'mon," I tug her sleeve and grab both of our jackets.

"Honestly, I forgot about it until now," she puts her jacket on and fishes the keys out of her pocket.

While the doctor drives, I order delivery from a semi fancy French place so that I don't have to do guess work about what the hell she wants. God knows that's near impossible.

We turn into my apartment's parking lot and head upstairs. Despite not coming over in a while, Dr. Cormier seems comfortable. She leaves her shoes by the door, hangs up her jacket, and takes her seat on the couch. It's her spot now, she always sits on the center cushion. Even when I'm alone, I stay on the left.

I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and throw it over her head, "Don't fall asleep completely, the food is on the way".

"Mmkay," she mumbles, pulling the blanket down over her shoulders.

A knock at the door comes only minutes later. I exchange the goods and set the bag in front of the already sleeping woman. Perhaps the smell of the hot food or me clanging around for dishes will wake her.

"Cosima?" I barely hear her soft call from the kitchen.

"Here, sleepy," I hand her a glass of wine. She takes it but looks up at me disapprovingly. "Just one glass, Cormier. We're celebrating. Although, you wouldn't be able to tell by looking".

We eat in silence aside from a few stray comments about the food. It's comfortable, at least for me. She always seems content in silence. It isn't until we're finished eating and left with wine that we start talking. She tells me about her long, monotonous day and I tell her about my fun meeting with Leekie.

"Cosima?" she says after a moment of concentration. "I think I should start telling Dr. Leekie about your coughing. It's only going to look suspicious if I don't, and he might need to know those things for making treatment or a cure," her voice is almost sad, scared.

"Can you even cure a birth defect?" she just looks at me, waiting. "Fine, you're right. I did tell him today that we're at, like, friends' level, so it'd be odd if you still come up with nothing," she looks relieved for a moment. I wonder how long that's been bothering her.

"Friends," she nods to herself, "Right, okay". Her eyes close for a moment and so I panic for a moment.

"Is that cool? Or, like, is it…" _crossing a line… going backwards… right on… disappointing… relieving…_ "…accurate?"

She does the worst thing ever and just says nothing. She stares at me with that 'deer in the headlights' expression. "J'sais pas…" she mumbles finally and looks down at her hands. She's not drunk, but the one glass in combination with her fatigue is making her useless. Maybe more honest, though…

"You don't know?" I prompt her to elaborate. "You can say no, if being friends is… not what you want?" I finish that off so awkwardly. I'm trying to make it ambiguous like everything else is between us. Not being friends could be either wanting less or wanting more.

"I…I don't know what I want…I just, I…" she stutters horrendously. "Friends… is fine," I watch her shoulders shrink slightly.

"Hey," I can't seem to help myself. I tilt her head up so she's looking at me, then slide my hand to her neck. We always sit so damn close on the couch, there's not much room between us to begin with. I really want to be patient and let her decide to come to me, but I feel myself leaning closer to her anyways.

I brush my lips across hers with a peck, gauging how she reacts. When I get a positive response, I kiss her again, this time a little longer. Then longer, more pressure. It goes on like this and she doesn't show the least bit of resistance. She's the one to introduce tongues (again). She's the one to make the first little whimper.

I'm finding it unbearable at this pace, but I won't go any further than she takes it. Maybe she knows exactly what she wants, and this is just an epic tease. No, she's not that evil. I feel her hand touch my arm, holding it gently in place. She so soft and sweet sometimes, it's hard to believe all the shitty things people say about her.

I carefully move my hand to her thigh, mostly for support. She kisses harder for a moment and her hand grasps tighter on my arm. The hand I have on her neck slides down to her chest, just above her shirt collar, so I can feel her heart. Although I feel the sharp beating, what I notice more is how she's breathing. She's either terrified for her life, or overwhelmed with…passion? Lust? I want to push her with that hand so that she lays back on the couch, or at least move my hand lower, but I do neither. It seems like my stillness causes more urgency for her anyways.

No matter how much I'm enjoying this, even if it is unbearable, I know I have to pull back. She's done this before, kissing me back but then pretending it didn't mean anything. I want her to be able to say what she wants, not just allow me to give it to her.

I rest my forehead on hers for a moment before sitting back. She doesn't move, just breathes shakily and stares at her twisting hands. There's a look in her eyes like she just did something really bad, like she meant to make a minor infraction but committed a felony instead.

"I-I'm sorry," she keeps her head down, "I didn't…just when tu es si près…I should leave, I should go home," she turns slowly, but doesn't get up. I can't tell if she's going to cry and I certainly don't know what to do about it now if she does. I can't comfort her physically. Besides, I feel a cough coming on anyway and having me cough all over her while I go in for a hug isn't ideal.

"No, wait. Hold on, please," I put my hands up. She doesn't move, "Look, first of all, don't be sorry. I initiated that, okay?"

"I'm sorry because I…I did the same, I did that back," she stutters awkwardly. She's trying to avoid the word 'kiss' and it's kind of endearing.

"Yeah, again, don't be sorry. I enjoyed you doing it back," I try not to clear the tickle in my throat, try to put off the inevitable ten-minute-long coughing session. "You can go home, but we work together, you can't avoid me forever. Just…talk to me about this, okay? Why are you so worked up?" She seems to calm down but continues to evade any eye contact.

"J'sais pas, Cosima," she rests her head in her hands to cover her face, propped up on her knees. "I feel out of control when we end up so close, like I can't think. I can't think about my actions and the consequences or anything else," I can see the creases on the side of her face as she squeezes her eyes shut tighter. I feel bad now, like I attacked her or something.

"Well, what do you feel when that happens? When we're close?" I hear my voice soften, but I know it's mostly due to this cough I'm putting off. I need water.

"Scared, maybe?" she lifts her head from her hands, her eyebrows scrunched up, perplexed. I know that she doesn't mean scared of me, as though she fears my presence, but it still doesn't feel good hearing it.

"Nervous? Tension?" she looks at me and I hope the desperation doesn't show too clearly on my face. I try to swallow my own nervousness but end up involuntarily coughing. Here we go.

"Cosima? Cosima, what do you…what can I do?" she grabs my arm firmly and shakes it a bit to get my attention. I pull the collar of my shirt up over my mouth and take my glasses off. I almost broke my glasses during one of my little fits.

"Wa–Water," I squeeze the word out between coughs. They don't even sound like individual coughs, more like a long string of intermittent huffs. Dr. Cormier returns with a glass of water, sits on the coffee table in front of me and puts her hands on my knees.

"What do I do?" she asks, as if I knew the answer or could even vocalize it. I shake my head and try to down some water. It doesn't seem to help the soreness building up in my throat, but my cough is subsiding. "Are…are you alright, Cosima?"

I set the water down next to her and drop my hand onto her shoulder, out of breath. "You," I reach for my glasses and shove them on my face, "are such a shitty doctor," I smile at her.

To my surprise, she only stares with terror for a second and then lets out a breathy chuckle. I smile wider, watching her comb her fingers through her hair. The terror comes back for a moment, "Oh, did…did I do this? With the…all of that and–"

"No, the lustful kiss you gave into didn't trigger that, nor did the incredible amount of indecisiveness, awkwardness, weirdness, and stress that came with the conversation afterward," I lean back and close my eyes. Her hands stay on my knees, so I'm not moving them an inch.

"How do you know, though? The…what we did could trigger respiratory issues if you're not breathing correctly, and stress certainly can as well," she's totally trying to blame this on our little interaction. Nope, not having it.

"Kiss, Cormier. We kissed. We were kissing. You kissed me, I kissed you, you can say the word," I almost laugh at her coyness. "And I know because it happens almost every night. I get coughing fits like that maybe four or five times a week. At least in the evening, but sometimes more throughout the day," she looks at me like I just admitted to killing her cat.

"What? Cosima, why on Earth haven't you told me any of this?" I get the feeling she's going to slap me. Maybe just a wrist slap, but possibly on the face.

"I don't know. Why didn't you ask? You're not a very good monitor, you know…" I'm joking, but I can see she's taking it seriously.

"I'm going to call Dr. Leekie. Maybe he has some kind of protocol or something," she goes to her coat by the door and finds her phone in the pocket. "Blood. Is there blood every time?" she dials his number.

"Not usually, but sometimes. Not this time," she nods and then shushes me with her finger over her lips.

"Allô, Dr. Leekie. It's Dr. Cormier … fine, I was just calling because Cosima is apparently having coughing fits regularly, almost every night, intermittent hemoptysis … yes … I'm in her apartment … euh, she's in the bathroom … I don't know … well, I could ask … oh, ehm okay," she awkwardly finishes before looking at the screen of her phone. "He hung up".

"Well, it is eight something. Old guy like him is probably in bed," she looks at me and then at the time on her phone. "What'd he say?"

She sighs and shoves her phone back into her coat pocket, "Not much, really". She makes her way back over to her spot on the couch. "He asked how you were feeling afterward and asked me to stay with you. Apparently by whatever means I choose," she shakes her head.

"Whatever means you choose?" I think I know what he's talking about, but I'm not sure I believe it.

"I assume he meant something along the lines of seduction," she scoffs. "He's such an intelligent person, polite, easy going person. But he's just like any other man with some lesbian fantasy," she shakes her head again. I'm not sure if she is truly this upset about what he said, or if she's just projecting the feelings she has about staying with me onto him.

"It's usually just once, you know. I'm typically fine for the rest of the night so, if you want to go home, it's totally fine. I'll be fine," I don't want her to leave, but I also don't want her to be here and be miserable.

"That wouldn't be very monitor-like of me. I can stay. It's Friday, anyway," she smiles softly at me.

"Well, that's true. You've been an awful monitor so far. Probably better than Shay ever was, but that's not her fault," I steal the blanket from behind her and curl up on the arm rest on my side of the couch.

She nods and then goes silent for a bit. "Cosima?" I respond with a hum, "Why are you so nonchalant about this whole situation? You found out that you've been a part of a study since you were born, watched by people your entire life. _I_ was hired to watch you…"

"I believe you're familiar with a clever little thing called denial, my dear," she lays her head on the back of the couch. "I thought the whole point was that we were going to look into it, though? Right?"

"Oui, you're right," she maneuvers her body to face me, still resting her head on the couch. "And the way he sounded during that phone call – he just didn't seem to care. He wasn't surprised or worried. You'd think he'd have some input for a subject of his own study".

"Unless he's waiting for all the subjects to die off and that's the whole study. Whatever fucking birth defect we all have might just be a death sentence that he's trying to measure. Does he even have treatment or a cure?" I shouldn't have said any of that, not a word. Dr. Cormier's body tenses up and she looks frozen. There's a lot of stuff going on with her, and it's all so convoluted, I can't sort it out with just her facial expressions and body language.

"T'as raison, Cosima," she whispers, "What…what does that mean? For the future? How soon is…oh Dieu," she starts to tear up, a few droplets escape down her cheek. I forget my restraint and take her in my arms.

"It's fine, it's fine. We'll figure this out, don't worry," she won't hug me back, but she lays her head on my shoulder.

"How, Cosima?" she asks quietly, shaking her head.

"We'll dig into the study somehow. Even if we can just find out what the birth defect is, we could try to make treatment or a cure on our own. Maybe it's not as bad as it seems. We could even try to find other subjects, see how they're doing," a plan of action is what seems to calm her down the most. She sniffles, and then nods as she removes herself from my shoulder. I let my hands slide down to her shoulders, squeezing them lightly, before getting up to fetch some tissues.

"I can't believe I'm the one being comforted in a situation like this. I'm sorry, Cosima. You shouldn't have to do that," she takes the box from me. I return to my position, curled up with the blanket.

"It's fine, Dr. Cormier. You and your emotions don't go well together, evidently. I have a bit more of a handle on mine," I chuckle.

"You have to stop calling me Dr. Cormier," she puts her face back in her hands.

"Hmm, boss lady? Cormier? Dr. Bitch is apparently in use already. We could go back to Her Majesty Doctor Cormier?" I nudge her. She takes everything too seriously, too heavy.

She looks at me for a moment with an expression I can't read, "When we're not at work, you can call me Delphine".

"Delphine?" I say awkwardly. She nods, "Delphine…" I test it out. After so much time spent on avoiding a slip up by calling her that, it doesn't even sound like a name anymore.

"Don't make it weird, Cosima," her face is back in her hands, but I get a glimpse of the smile underneath.

"Hmmm…I have an idea," I sit up and tap _Delphine_ on the shoulder. "So, it seems like talking about work stuff, or, like, course of action with this whole study thing is a lot easier for you to talk about than, you know, feelings. Yeah?"

"I guess. I understand it more," she curls her legs up on the couch and faces me.

"Since you're staying, why don't we put our time to good use? Let's try an experiment and see if it works," she doesn't say anything, just looks suspiciously at me. "Let's talk about your feelings".

"Why do you want to talk about my feelings, Cosima? I don't see the point," she's serious.

"Because, I want to know why you send all these ambiguous signals. Why you kiss me back like you want it, but then freak out when we stop. I know it's not personal, but it's kind of a subtle put-down every time. You act like I'm some perpetrator forcing myself on you and it confuses me because you still accept graciously when I make any kind of contact with you," I have to stop there because I feel like I'm going to cry. I try not to think about it most of the time, but it can get really hurtful. Especially that period of time she went back to treating me like her little subordinate.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Cosima. I don't mean it that way," she consoles. I nod and try to smile. I know she doesn't. "Well, okay. Let's talk…" God this is going to be awkward with her.

"Alright, so let's start with…why you got upset a little while ago, after I kissed you," I watch her struggle for words.

"Because I felt like I didn't have control over my actions? Maybe?" she sighs, "I don't know. Because I didn't know what was happening. My body was in control, not me". She runs her hand through her hair nervously.

"You and your body are the same thing. It's not a separate entity," I point out.

"Yes, but it was acting against what my judgement recommended," she snaps a bit.

"And why do you think that is?"

"I don't know, Cosima," she's getting a little panicky. "There's no reasonable explanation for it. There's no reason. I don't know why my mind goes blank or why my body acts on its own accord, why I feel..." she exhales aggressively.

I don't know why this is just making me more upset. She is in such a heavy state of denial. A kid could be able to connect the dots, but she hates it so much that she refuses to. I feel insulted. I get up and face her, "You know exactly why," I say in a quiet bitter voice before leaving her to fume.

"This is why I didn't want to talk about my _feelings_," she says in a disgusted tone.

"News flash, Cormier," I turn to her, not even trying to keep the hurt out of my voice, calling her Cormier on purpose. "You're not talking about your feelings, you're avoiding them. You're talking around them, you're pretending they aren't there. You're doing a lot of things with your feelings, but talking about them isn't one," she looks at me with some amount of shock.

"Does this mean you consider me a close friend?" she asks quietly.

"What?" It catches me off guard. What's she trying to do? Distract?

"You said that only your family and closest friends see your temper…" I can't even tell if she's joking. I never can.

I sigh and sit back down next to her, "Look, it was a bad idea to talk about this now. But we should talk later, maybe when I'm less piss-y and you're less denial-y," she tries to interject, "Don't even try to deny your denial," she closes her mouth and I end up chuckling at her.

"I'm sorry," she looks down at her hands, intertwined and flexing anxiously.

"Let's just talk about something productive," she glances over at me, eyebrow raised. "Maybe come up with a game plan for this secret study bullshit?"

"Okay, well you were thinking about finding other subjects and maybe figuring out what the birth defect is?" I nod, "Okay, where would you keep those kinds of records?"

"Records," I realize how helpful that would be. "Yeah, notes, records. I mean, for me, anything like that I would just file, but if this is a not-so-legal project, then I'd want it hidden…"

"So, maybe somewhere besides the facility? Definitely not with the rest of the records they'd keep on studies," she seems to perk up a little.

"Well, all the ongoing projects will be locked up anyways for confidentiality. They would be safe there, but only from outsiders, not from an employee accidentally stumbling on them," she nods. "But I don't know that I'd keep it in an entirely separate facility. Especially if you said it was like family to him. I don't one hundred percent believe that, but if he's close to the project, he'd want it to be easily accessible to him. That's what I think, at least," I look over at the doctor, she's squinting.

"Well, what are all those filing cabinets in his office? He doesn't deal with any of the technical stuff. He's paid to make other people do his work, basically".

"He's the face…" my head is starting to hurt. "He's the one in the spotlight, on the front page…right under our noses…" I can almost hear the click in my head.

"What?" I don't know if she doesn't get the whole line of thought or just the phrase.

"Leekie told me, earlier today actually, that things are best hidden right in front of us. He said people don't really put too much weight to it if it's obvious. We like to think we're smarter than that. Although, I know more people who would just prefer to believe the easy and obvious thing than I do people who like to complicate things. Maybe what he said wasn't accurate for the general population, but what if it is for him? Like that's how he does shit?" She nods, but I'm still not sure she understands.

"So…it's not the filing cabinets?" Yeah, she doesn't get it.

"No. It totally _is_ because no one would expect him to hide such high stakes shit in the very office everyone comes through to see him. And nobody would think that the man in charge of a creepy-ass, probably illegal, human study was chosen to be the head of the whole fucking company".

"Mon Dieu," her head falls back into her hands.

"That's a bit formal, you can just call me Cosima," I try to lighten her mood a bit. She shoves me, so I think it worked.

"C'mon, Dr. Co – uh, Delphine," it still feels odd to say. "Delphine…Delphine," I repeat a little quieter to myself. "Del-phine".

"You don't have to call me that if you don't want to," she sounds a little insecure.

"No, it's not that. It just feels so…intimate, I don't know. I want to though, I like it," she gives me a look, "The name, not the intimacy…" I look away, I really didn't do a good job saving that one.

"Non? Because it seems like you're fine with intimacy between us," I look back at her and she's smiling at me. A 'caught you in a lie' smile.

"Well, I…" and now I'm blushing. Dammit. I am usually not on that side of things. "Oh, hey," I'm surprised when I turn to see her much closer to me. She's examining my face skeptically.

"Does it work the other way around?" she asks. No fucking idea what she's talking about.

I eloquently express my confusion, "Huh?"

The woman bites her lip and looks at mine in a very outright way. I want to call her out on her great efforts of seduction, but I don't want her to stop exactly… "Experiment," she says with an evil smile.

"Wha–oh," I can't really say much because I've done this to her more than once. She climbs over me and sits on my lap, straddling, putting her arms over my shoulders exactly like I did to her before. The difference is, I was devious and charming, and she is a tall sexy woman doing tall sexy woman things. I can't tell if she's experienced or if this all comes naturally to her. I close my eyes and repeat a phrase in my head that doesn't seem to do much but state the obvious: _my boss is on top of me, my hot boss is on top of me, my hot French boss is on top of me, my hot French sexy boss is on top of me…_

"Bon, commençons," I open my eyes when I feel her sliding her body almost all the way flat to mine. The size of the couch doesn't allow her to have us completely pressed together.

"That's not fair, I never got this close to you," it's true, but I know I'm making excuses. I think I know what she's trying to do. She keeps her arms-length distance between our upper bodies, thankfully.

"Hm," she doesn't give a shit. Her smile says as much, "So, Cosima. Scientist. What is a nucleus?"

I laugh. Pop quiz, is it? I can do that. "Uh, the nucleus," I start but she looks down at my lips, smiles, bites her fucking lip, and looks back up at my eyes. She shrugs, prompting me to go on, "The nucleus is like the center of a cell, it controls shit. That's also where DNA is," I smile. Made it through. Suck it, Cormier. Whoops…Suck it, _Delphine_.

"Bien fait," she's still smiling like she has the upper hand. She may be stronger than me and currently on top of me, but that doesn't mean she's won. "So, humans," she says, leaning closer, half an arms-length away now, folding her arms behind my neck. Which is also something I've done to her. "What's our current scientific classification?"

"Uh," I want to say _humans_, but I know that's wrong. I'm distracted because I want to touch her, but I have to restrain myself. Her waist is right there, though, waiting to be held. Her legs are there, waiting for me to grasp them. And her face, her devious little smiling face, is so close I can feel her breath on my lips.

"Non? The Evolutionary Developmental Biologist can't tell me what our current evolutionary development is?" I can feel my mouth open, ready to give the answer that I know without a doubt, obviously. No noise is coming out, though. For once in this weird relationship we have, she's the one in charge. I'm not used to it, that's why I'm freezing up.

"We're…" the answer is Homo sapiens. That's it. Simple answer, simple question. I choke though, because she's looking at me and…I don't know…I don't want to have the right answer for some reason. This is all so much more difficult, too, because she's never initiated anything before, not really. She's never expressed interest, only denied it. This is an experiment, though, so she's probably not expressing interest, just going through the trials. Trials where I suck at answering questions critical to my own degree.

"Cosima," she leans in and whispers the word against my lips. I can't tell if it's mine or her lips that are trembling, but judging by our current states, it's probably mine. She presses as much of her body against me as she can and moves her mouth to my ear and whispers again, "Would you like a hint?"

It takes all my willpower not to slide my hand behind her neck and keep her there. "Uh, no…I know it," I answer, but it's not that believable when I can't respond. I clutch the couch beneath us as hard as I can. I have the answer and I know how to say it, but every time I try, it washes away like someone spilled their beer on my thoughts.

"Say it, then," she orders, bringing her face back in front of mine, staring at me in the sexiest of ways. "Unless…there's something bothering you?"

I laugh breathily, "I get it, you've made your point," she smiles and starts to sit back up. "This wasn't fair, though," she looks down at me with a raised eyebrow.

"How's that?" she's smiling, thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Well, first of all, you were much more touchy-feely. Second, you know exactly how I feel about you," I look down at my hands, not embarrassed, but something close to that.

"Anything else?"

"Uh, yeah," I look back up at her. "I am a cute, charming, harmless little creature. But you," I gesture at the figure still straddling me. "You're a gorgeous, blonde, sexy, French woman that I want to touch but can't and, you know, that's the biggest problem here, obviously, it's a distraction from the easy questions, the amount of restraint…" I think I'm rambling.

"Okay, one more trial. Variation of variables," she looks at me and I shrug my shoulders. Her hands slide down my arms, like I've also done to her multiple times, and grasp both my hands. I watch her face the whole time, biting her lip, licking her lips, smiling. All a purposeful show. A lovely show, though.

I feel my hands being pulled up to her waist and left there. Her blazer is hanging up with her coat, so all she has on is a fancy tank top. It's snug, too. "I…" can't finish my thoughts let alone my sentences.

"The distraction is gone, right? The restraint?" I swallow and nod. I don't know why I'm going along with this. "So, one more try at an easy question," I nod again. "What's the capital of the state we're currently in?"

This one isn't there at the top of my head, so it's already more difficult. This woman makes it impossible to answer the question as she leans back in again. She stares at my lips with hunger, the playful smile gone. "Too hard?" She leans in further, back to my ear, and whispers, "What's the name of the state are we in right now?"

Her left hand is slowly dragging itself across my neck. My hands have traveled to her hips since she moved forward. And she is breathing softly next to my ear, down my neck. My hands slide back up to her waist, glide over her stomach, down again to her thighs. I pull her closer to me, as far as my couch will allow, and hear a small noise in my ear. Seems like I still have some power here.

"Still too hard?" she's starting to lose her breath, lose this game. She's not giving up, though. "One more try, what's your name?" she asks and I'm a bit surprised at her confidence. That is, until I feel her warm lips on my neck. I know the sigh I let out is closer to a sex noise, but I don't care. She doesn't leave much untouched on the side of my neck. Her body moves with each kiss she plants. I'm not even sure if I'm breathing. It isn't until her hand starts lowering toward my chest that I'm able to move voluntarily.

"Okay, okay," I barely whisper, "I get it. You can stop," I'm out of breath, and honestly kind of sad.

"What's wrong?" she asks seriously but doesn't move from my lap.

"Nothing, it's just…I get your point, or whatever. You can stop before you do something you'll regret. And I can't handle any more of the act, it's fucking with my head," I grasp my head, starting to feel another headache.

"Well, now you know how it feels," she snaps back. She slides off of me back to her cushion.

"No. What I do is very different. I try to tempt you so that you'll address whatever feelings you seem to have. Because you keep denying things that look pretty simple. But that, what you did, you did it knowing how I feel about you already. And you pretended to be interested or into it or whatever and I just…I don't know, I just sat there while you used my feelings against me, and I waited for the moment you felt satisfied with your work and left. It was like you were exploiting the fact that I have feelings for you, just for the purpose of making me feel worse about everything, to make me hate myself more for just… " I get up. No real reason, maybe just to put some space between us.

"For what?" her voice is soft. She's taken aback by my outburst.

"For ever coming on to you in the first place," I say as I walk to my semi-bedroom. "And I hate you, too. For making me feel like some sick pervert who just fucking assaulted you whenever something would happen between us. Something that you participated in fully, that you advanced sometimes. It's too fucking much, dude. I can't just…I don't know, deal with that. It confuses the fuck out of me," I sigh as my voice softens gradually. I flop back on my bed and throw my glasses somewhere on the covers. I close my eyes, wishing I had an already prepared joint.

"Hey," I hear her shuffle into the room. "I – I'm sorry, I didn't… I just wanted to show you…" I open my eyes and see her standing next to my bed.

"What? How hard it is to think and talk and make decisions when there's a pretty lady in your lap?" she looks down, I think I see a half-nod. "Well, guess what, Delphine. The reason I reacted that way just now is because I like you, because I have feelings for you. What's your reason, since you're so uninterested?"

She stutters on some indistinguishable noises for a moment, but then gives up and looks back down at her feet.

I sigh and roll over on the bed. "Hey," I grab her arm and pull her down to the bed. She gets the message and lays down next to me. We stare at my ceiling. "I just thought we should go for the whole experience, you know?"

She looks at me, confused, "What do you mean?"

"How do you feel right now?"

"Ah, pretty shitty, I guess".

"That's how I felt after every time you freaked out on something that seemed mutual. It's not a good feeling," I look at her, she looks a little irritated.

"Well, at least when I 'freaked out' I wasn't being dishonest, putting on a show," she pouts at the ceiling.

"Yeah, neither was I," I admit. Honestly, I didn't start off with the intention of giving her a taste of her own medicine, I really was upset. It just reminded me of every time she did the same. "And I think I get it now, at least mostly".

"Get what?" she rolls on her side to look at me.

"Maybe you are being completely honest when you say you're not interested. I just thought that since you react so much to me hitting on you and, like, touching and climbing all over you," I can't help but laugh a little at my own actions. "I thought it meant there was something there, you know? But after that little adventure," I gesture toward the couch, "I guess you just don't react well to not being in charge of a situation. You seemed perfectly content when you were the one in control," I can't really tell if she's upset. Her expression is serious. "So, I promise not to be all over you anymore, and I'll tone down my stupid arrogant flirting and seduction," I laugh again at myself. I really have been all over her, it's embarrassing how much.

"What do you mean?" I still can't read what she's feeling. "Control?"

"Yeah, you're legitimately not interested, you're just awkward with…special attention. So, you react weird and don't feel in control, you know," I close my eyes. My glasses are still somewhere on the bed. I run my hand along the covers looking for them, but I feel Delphine reaching over me and grabbing them. She sets them on my stomach, and I shove them back on my face.

"But you are still…interested. Why would you stop if you're interested?" she asks quietly, I turn to look at her.

"Because I'm not an asshole. And I like you, so I don't want to go around doing things that make you uncomfortable. I have some self-control. I just have to keep a bit of physical distance and I'll be fine," I can't tell if she's relieved or still confused…

"Physical distance?" Confused it is.

"Yeah," I chuckle at her. "Like, I won't keep touching you, getting as close as I can to you, obviously kissing you. But we'll still talk, and I hope you'll still come over and we still hang out. If I can't have you like I…uh, yeah, I'd like to have you as a friend. If that's cool?"

"Oui, of course," she looks at me with a serious expression still.

"Will you still stay with me tonight?" I try to keep the pleading out of my voice.

"Oui, of course," she says again, but in a much calmer tone and a smile on her face.


	6. Termination

"_Jesus Christ, Cormier," I hear before I feel my body being tugged around. The floor is beneath me now, and the wooden nightstand behind me. The drawer handles are digging into my back. "Don't fucking die on me," Cosima says, her hands on my shoulders, keeping me upright. I feel a hotness on my head and bring my hand up to it. It's wet. I can sense it trickling down the side of my face before I lose consciousness for a moment._

_The next thing I feel is pressure on my thighs. I crack my eyes and see Cosima straddling me, reaching over my side for something. She puts her hand on my neck and leans closer to me, and just when I'm prepared for a kiss, she brings her other hand up to my face and starts dabbing at the wound with a hotel washcloth. I'm reminded of the pain, but I'm more aware of my disappointment. I know it's my drunken-self thinking, but I get into this circle of thought: why didn't she kiss me? Am I not attractive to her? I know I'm mean, but that doesn't give her the right to tease me like that. Who does she think she is?_

_Even my drunk thoughts chastise me for going down that road. I'm still hung up on it, though. I look at her lips. They're slightly parted and I can see her tongue peeking through. It's mesmerizing. Her darkly lined eyes are concentrated on my wound. She's so intense, but so warm. I look back down to her lips. I'm overly focused on it now. They look soft, kissable. I could kiss her. I should. I should kiss her just to prove that I can. I'm a decent kisser. I think I will. I want to. I can imagine it clearly in my head. I will. _

_I'm tired, but I get the strength to lift my arm just off the ground. "Band-aid?" she asks, distracting me from the great amount of concentration I need to do anything. I nod in the general direction of my purse. I'm mad at her for ruining it again. My legs are cold when she gets up. I'm even more mad at her now. I shouldn't be. She probably didn't know that she was supposed to kiss me. She should've, though. _

_I close my eyes and try to not be mad at her. It's working rather poorly until she comes back and kneels over me, straddling but not directly on my lap. "Non," I mumble, fed up with her. My arms make it to her waist, and I put as much pressure as I can on her. She slowly sits back down, and my legs are warm again. She did it so slow, it was sexy, I think. "Refais ça, j'aime ça," I explain. She doesn't respond, but I can feel her going back to her task, pushing my hair around. I like that, too. She touches me so softly. I keep my hands on her waist and rest my arms on her legs, just in case she tries to move again. _

"_C'mon," I feel her slipping out of my grasp, even though I'm holding on as tight as I can. I look up and watch her pull back the covers of my claimed hotel bed. For some reason, seeing her at more of a distance makes me realize how weird I was being. That's my assistant, and she's a woman. Why did I do that? _

"_C'mon. Up," she crouches back down next to me and moves her arm behind my back. My skeptical thoughts are gone again and all I want is for her to not stop touching me. I feel an uncomfortable pressure under my arms and realize that she's trying to pull me up. I decide to help. I grab onto her body, I don't even know where, and try my best to stand. The most that we succeed with is getting me up enough to stumble sideways into my bed. She helps me turn over, pulls my legs up onto the bed, and covers me up. _

_I watch her as she helps me. The look on her face is so calm. She doesn't look upset or irritated with me. The gentleness she has to her, it plants a seed in my brain and my body. It makes me look at her body, the way it moves, and want it all for myself. I want her close. I want to grab her wrist, make her stay, anything, but my fatigue takes over me. I'll just kiss her tomorrow before we start the conferences. _

I wake up with my body still on top of the covers. I'm on my side, facing Cosima, who's still asleep. I look at her alarm clock behind me – 10:48 AM. That's likely the latest I've slept in months. Cosima probably sleeps in late every weekend. I wonder how she gets up in time for work.

I look back at Cosima, her glasses still mostly on her face, but knocked sideways with sleep. I take them off and fold them on the bed next to her. Since there's no laptop between us, we're pretty close. I can hear her soft breathing. As I look at her, I notice her eyeliner is smudged and half wiped off. There's irritated redness under her eyes. The covers right underneath her head have darkened splotches, and now that I look at her glasses a little closer, I see they have dried droplets on the edge of the lens.

I want to ignore it and pretend I can't make conclusions from the evidence, but I know it would be selfish of me. With the situation we're in, this could've been about any number of things. She could've been thinking about whatever is wrong with her, whatever is making her sick. The things we've figured out about Dr. Leekie are frightening and would make anyone scared. She could've even been thinking about how she's been watched and documented her entire life, wondering who was real and who was paid.

It could be any of these things, but I know the reason for the dried tears on the bed and her glasses is because of her realization last night. A realization that I don't understand the logic of, but it came from me making an ass of myself by being all over her. I hate that I enjoyed it, too. I certainly didn't like making her upset, but everything else was exhilarating. She's always had that power over me, that leaves-me-speechless power that I hate. Last night, I had that. It was even better because I had power over someone who usually has a large amount of it over me.

Maybe it did get a little out of hand. The further I went, the more overtaken by control I became. The more she resisted the urge to touch me, the harder I wanted to try to break it. Though, it never did break. I had to move her myself so that she was touching me. Maybe I shouldn't have done that. The urge was so strong though, the urge for…power, I guess. That's what Cosima says. I know that I like being in control at work, but it's usually for order and organization, not power.

I still hate that I made her cry. I've been known to be the cause of some tears, but it's usually because of intimidation or being too "bitchy" at work. Never have I experienced this, and she's not even mad at me. Or if she is, she's hiding it very well. I put my hand on her cheek, it's cold. I look at her body, curled up on top of the covers, dressed rather skimpily. She has a spaghetti-strap tank top and sweatpants that are rolled up to her knees. They have a few holes, too. I reluctantly roll out of the bed and find the blanket on the back of her couch. She stirs a bit when I cover her up but doesn't wake. I want to lay back down with her and just look at her, undisturbed, until she wakes up. The more I see her, the more beauty I find, the more I want to be the only one to see her. I want to be the only one who gets to observe her when she sleeps. I don't want her to share that couch with some other person. I want to be the only person to lecture her about her cooking hazards. I guess that's just the controlling side of me coming out. Maybe Cosima is right.

I decide to cook breakfast to make up for some of the damage that's been done. There are some eggs and fruit in the fridge, so I start cooking as quietly as I can. Every now and then, I look past the half-wall to check on her. She doesn't move much. It isn't until noon is approaching that I give in and try to wake her.

"Cosima?" I call softly and shake her arm. I repeat myself and she mumbles incoherently. "You can't sleep the whole day, Cosima," she seems to slowly regain some consciousness. She cracks her eyes a bit, then looks at me and squints them until they're nearly shut again.

"Dr. Cormier?" she rasps quietly.

"C'mon. You should get up," I grab her glasses and hand them to her. When she sits up, she still looks quite groggy, but apparently, she's aware enough to throw the blanket over my head. I roll my eyes and bring it back to the couch. The sink in the bathroom is running, the door open. Cosima is washing off her glasses. I wonder if I should bring it up.

"Hey, Dr. Cormier?" she says a little louder when she approaches the kitchen. "Or, uh, Delphine. I think we should come up with a plan for…dude, is that food?" Her eyes open all the way for the first time this morning.

"Ehm, yes. I don't really know what you like, but I, I euh," I find myself stumbling on my words nervously. I hand her a plate.

"I've told you what I like before. Pretty much anything that doesn't taste awful," she smiles, takes a bite, and gives me a thumbs up.

"Okay, good," I was expecting some kind of innuendo or remark about 'what she likes' or a comment on my own nervous behavior, but it never comes. It's disappointing. It feels like a large chunk of her personality is missing. She's hiding it from me, and the worst part is that she thinks that's what I want. I can't tell her to start again, though. It would be sending too many mixed signals and she's had enough of those.

"Thanks, this is lovely. And not burned," Cosima distracts me from my thoughts.

"De rien," I don't have much of an appetite anymore. I pick at the food on my own plate, but don't eat most of it. "Euh, so what were you saying? We should come up with a plan?"

"Oh!" she nods and sets down her fork, "Yeah, so, we should figure out a way to get into his office. Either after hours, like when the building is pretty much empty, or sometime when he's not in his office for sure," I'm starting to get more anxious about this the more she talks.

"I don't want to be there when there's no one else in the building. If something happens, then…then we'd–"

"Yeah, okay I get your point. So, sometime during our workday. Does he take lunches?" she brings her empty plate to the sink.

"I don't know anything about his schedule," I sigh and rake my fingers through my hair. I need to brush it.

"Okay, well we can find that out probably," she looks up at me for a moment, inspecting. "Hey," Cosima walks over to where I'm leaning on the counter, "Are you okay?" she grasps my arms and looks at me with a concerned expression.

"Euh, yes. Of course," I'm not even convinced with my answer. I can see she's about to lean in further like she does when she knows I'm not being fully honest about something, but when she realizes what she's doing, she pulls back and lets go of my arms completely. It hurts a little. It wasn't ever something I wanted or tried to draw out, but now that she's purposefully avoiding it, I feel weird.

"Because, you don't have to do this," she leans on the opposite counter facing me. "I can figure out when he's not in his office and sneak in there. I don't want you to freak out or, like, die of an aneurism". She cocks her head and smiles at me. I hate that she's still thoughtful.

"Non, non, of course not. I'm not letting you do that by yourself," I tell her, and somewhat myself. A familiar smile plays at her lips, like she's about to say something clever. Before she does, though, she looks back down at her feet and the smile fades. "Ehm, so we could also try to lure him out of his office and keep him occupied somewhere while we look around," I suggest, just to distract myself from this awful tension.

"Yeah, that's actually a good idea. If we can find someone to keep him distracted, they could even let us know when he's on his way back and we need to escape. Scott might be down," she squints her eyes and looks around arbitrarily, thinking.

"Ah, no, no," I say automatically. "I, euh, we should keep other people out of this. If there's something really bad going on we should limit the damage," she nods. "What if one of us distracts him and the other goes through his office?"

"Yeah, that'd work," she nods, but I can see the concern in her eyes. "Who, though?"

I think about it for a minute. Both roles are intimidating. "I should be the one to go through his office. If I get caught looking for stuff about the study, he'll just think I wanted to know more or…I'm not sure. But if you get caught in there, he'll know that you know. You're better at distractions anyway," I say, hoping I don't offend her.

"That's not a bad plan," she nods again, this time the concern fading and a spark lighting. "And I can text or call you when he's on his way back, yeah, that'd work. When do you want to do this?"

"Monday. Let's do it as soon as possible. Get it over with," I try to keep the nerves out of my voice, but the way Cosima looks at me tells me I didn't do a good job.

"Alright, Monday it is".

* * *

"Good morning, Dr. Cormier," I hear right outside my office.

"Bonjour, Cosima. Have you come up with anything yet?" I whisper. Only a couple other people are in the lab, but I'd rather be safe.

"I think I might talk about doing a project. Maybe get him to come down to the lab," she whispers back. I nod. That could work, and I'm confident in Cosima's ability to ramble on incessantly. "Okay, I'll see you in a bit".

I watch the hands go by slowly on the clock, ten, eleven, noon. It isn't until two-thirty that Cosima comes back to visit my office.

"Wha'd'ya think? Good to go? Ready?"

"Ouais, I guess. How are you going to get him out of his office?"

"I'm going to go down there now and ask if he'll meet me in the lab around three or three-thirty, so you still have a little bit of time. You should already be out of the lab, though, when he comes around," she's right. She gives me a thumbs up before she leaves the lab, on her way to Leekie. I so badly want a smoke. There's not much risk in her going to ask for a meeting in the lab, but the fact that this whole thing is starting now is getting to me.

Cosima is back in less than ten minutes, somehow making me more nervous. "How'd it go?"

"Super easy. I just told him that his office really creeped me out and I wanted to meet in the lab. Apparently, that's happened to him more than once. He does have a creepy office," Cosima smiles, seemingly fine with the whole situation. "Okay, so he's coming down in half an hour. In twenty minutes, you should head over there and just be near his office. Somewhere you can see him when he comes out," she whispers. I nod, as it seems that's the only thing that I'm able to do today. It is a good thing that Cosima is doing the talking because I would fail miserably.

Two-fifty comes up fast and I see Cosima eyeing me from her station. I sigh, try to calm down a bit, and get up to leave the lab. There aren't many people in the lab today. A few people left early, some didn't even show up. It's nice out, maybe they're actually doing something worthwhile with their lives.

I take the stairwell up to the fourth floor and sit on the bottom step since the third floor is visible through the stairwell door. The elevators are right across from the stairs, also visible from my perch.

Five minutes go by and I hear the soft clacking of his business shoes. I peek around the corner just in time to see his bald head descending the flight of stairs below me. I wait a minute and then climb down to the third floor.

His "office" is at the end of a nearly empty hallway. I see his light is still on. When I get to the door, I look around a moment before testing it. Of course, no one is around. I tug on the handle and it opens easily. The door is silent, too. Very convenient. Making my way around his desk, I feel that filthy feeling I always get when I'm around him. Yet another reason it was better that Cosima do the distracting work. Her job might be harder than mine.

I look through the drawers of his desk, all unlocked. Nothing of interest. Not a lot in general, actually. There are applications and profiles, things that a CEO doesn't have much to do with typically. Does he actually go through all of the applicants, read all of their college writings? It sounds tedious and unnecessary.

The drawer I remember him putting the papers I signed in is completely empty aside from a few loose keys and some paper clips. His desk has almost nothing on it. I do remember that part from the very few meetings I've had with him in this room. His desk is always clean and clear. I look at his computer, shake his mouse to wake it up, and see that he had solitaire up. I wonder what he actually does with his time in here. Other than solitaire, that is.

I'm about to give up when I catch a glimpse at the filing cabinets behind me. A while ago, I had decided that they were probably full of the CEO stuff he's supposed to have, perhaps brought in and filed by various people for him. However, it would also be a good place to keep things he's trying to "hide in plain sight". What a senseless notion. I start with the one all the way to the left and work my way over, one by one. However, I'm starting to believe my first assumption. I see a lot of corporate documents and employee files. Everything is scarce, too. The drawers that aren't empty only have a few items. It makes me believe even more the idea that he is just a face, a hollow figure.

I find hope when I come to the last filing cabinet, the black one at the right end. The only one that's locked. As soon as the hope came, it vanished again. If it's locked, it means it's important, but it also means that it's locked. He'd have the key with him, probably on his person. He wouldn't just leave the key, would he? I spin back around to his desk and open the nearly empty drawer again. It's a long shot, but I pick up the smallest key and stick it in the keyhole of the cabinet. I can't even believe it when the key turns and I hear a click. Everything is so easy, it feels like a trap.

The top drawer is fully stocked. It looks like more employee files, only names I don't recognize. Then I come upon a file with my name. I peak in and see the documents that I signed for him when he hired me as a monitor. I figure these are all monitors, but I question if they're all of the current monitors for all the subjects, or if these are all of Cosima's past monitors.

The next drawer isn't quite as full. The very first folder catches my attention. The funding documents that were accidentally sent to me a while ago, the ones that I copied. The other folders have the same label, the only difference being the region number. I skip to the next drawer. The files are all labeled with what looks like serial numbers. I peek in the first one and see someone I recognize: Sarah, Cosima's twin sister. That makes sense. If it's a genetic issue, they would both likely have it. I see a sticky note on her picture with three words scribbled on it: _Bio daughter? Brother's? _

I remember the conversation I had with Leekie after the last trip to Canada. I was the one to mention Sarah had a daughter. Shouldn't he know that, though, if he keeps tabs on everyone? Maybe she's hidden her daughter all these years or she really is adopted and just recently moved in. It doesn't make much sense either way. I move onto the next file, thankfully Cosima's. It's the one that I knew I had to find. I look around again to make sure no one is watching and then I take the file out and put it on Leekie's desk. There are a lot of documents in it, the first being her picture and a basic profile. It looks newly printed. I see my name in the "MONITOR" section. It's a really odd feeling. I plan on taking photos of everything in this folder so that I don't have to actually steal anything. However, when I go to take my phone out of my pocket, I find it empty. I check all my pockets, all absent of my phone.

I start to panic immediately. Not only can I not take any pictures, but I also won't receive Cosima's warning text when Leekie is on his way back. I decide to take a risk and bring the whole folder with me. Maybe he won't notice it's gone, and I can replace it when we're done with it. I grab Sarah's folder as well, close the drawer, lock it, throw the key back in the desk drawer, and hastily make my way out of his office. I jog to the elevators and smash the down arrow. The dinging of the doors is the most relieving sound I've ever heard.

The whole ride down I feel my heart pounding in my ears. There's a smile tugging at my lips for some reason, but also tears threatening to fall. When the last ding sounds for the basement, I stuff the large folders in my lab coat as discreetly as possible. It doesn't work very well so I just end up taking my lab coat off and wrapping the folders with it.

I take each step at a time, having to think about it more than usual, down to Lab D. Peeking in the tiny window on the door, I see Cosima, her back facing me, talking with someone. Presumably Dr. Leekie. I look around for a place in the hall I could hide my findings until he leaves. I don't want to walk in there with the files horribly wrapped in my lab coat. All I see in the hallway, though, are a few empty desks with no drawers. I decide that's good enough. I put the stack of folders on the desk furthest away from Leekie's path, and then lay my lab coat on top of it. From a glance, it would just look like someone was lazy with their garment and left it in the hall, and that's if one were to even see it through the camouflage of white.

I take a deep breath and start walking back to the lab. However, before I get to the door, both Cosima and Dr. Leekie are exiting. Leekie sees me first, unfortunately.

"Dr. Cormier, where's your coffee?" It takes me a moment, but I realize Cosima probably had to explain my absence.

"Euh, the line was too long, so I gave up," I'm proud I came up with something so quick. It looks like Cosima is, too.

"So, uh, Dr. Cormier," Cosima walks toward me and Dr. Leekie follows, "I told Dr. Leekie about us. But don't worry, he's being really cool about it," Cosima nods and looks back at Leekie.

"About us?" I hope she doesn't mean all of the awkward issues we've been having. That'd be an odd thing to tell the CEO.

"Yeah, you know," she winks at me, "Our forbidden love," she winks again, a little more dramatically. I look at Dr. Leekie and see the look he's giving me, like we are in the know and we should just let Cosima say whatever she wants.

"And Dr. Leekie is, euh, _cool_ with it?" I try to feign this the best I can, although, I think it won't matter too much to Leekie since he's just elated about the lesbian scenario in his head. I hope I'm not required to give details.

"As long as you guys keep it appropriate at work and as long as you don't give Cosima any special treatment, I don't have a problem with it. You might want to keep it on the DL around your coworkers, though," he is also good at lying.

Dr. Leekie makes his way to the stairwell and ascends quietly. As soon as he's out of sight, I can't help myself and I pull Cosima in for a tight hug. Maybe I just need something to squeeze all of my anxiety out with right now. She wraps her arms around my waist and rubs my back.

"You okay?" she asks eventually. I nod, but don't let go. "If you're wondering what that was about, he was about to leave and I went to text you – oh, we used your office by the way – and your phone dinged on the desk. And I was all like, 'Ugh, Delphine,' without realizing who was there with me. It worked out really well. I had to explain to him my comfortable behavior with you and it took up a lot more time," she finishes. I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Can we go home for the day?" I whisper in her ear.

"Totally. It's a little past four anyways and only two people are left in there. C'mon," she leaves my grasp and moves to the lab door. I quickly grab my lab coat and the files from the desk and follow her in.

* * *

"Cosima?" she looks like she's sleeping in the passenger seat of my car.

"Hm?"

"Do you think they'd put surveillance in either of our apartments?" We're on our way to her apartment, but I'm starting to get paranoid about everything.

"Um, I don't know. My immediate response is no, but I don't know. There are weirder things happening, so I wouldn't really be surprised," she does nothing to ease my anxiety.

"Maybe we shouldn't go over this stuff there," I quietly suggest. I'm not sure if I'm being over-the-top about all of this. "I mean, why risk it?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Plus, he may have already seen that you took his shit, so he could be waiting with a chainsaw," she smiles at her humor, but I only find more fear in it.

"Okay, where then?"

"Oh, dude I know where. It's public-ish, and there's never anyone around to eavesdrop," she looks at me like she just asked a question and is waiting for an answer. I shrug my shoulders so that she'll just spit it out. "The place I took you one of the first times we hung out. I used to study there, and it really was an ideal place for it".

"The bookstore. You used to work there, non?" I take a right turn so we're going in the direction of the bookstore instead of Cosima's apartment.

"Hell yeah. I mean, if you could call it work. Hey, we'll even be there during his open hours instead of breaking in when he's closed," she says excitedly. I can't help a small smile.

We finally arrive at the small building around five. I grab my work bag and follow Cosima inside.

"Cosima," we see Lucien right away this time, rearranging, it looks like. "And Cosima's lovely friend. You come to visit me?"

"Well," Cosima smiles charmingly at him, "We're actually here on a top-secret mission and since you're always so busy around here, we thought it would be the perfect place to conspire," she winks, and he rolls his eyes.

"Ah, mais oui. Utilise-moi juste pour ma popularité. Allez-y," he mumbles as he walks away, shooing us off as he goes. Cosima pulls me by my jacket sleeve over to the stairs.

"Listen, Delphine," she whispers as we climb. "Luci was speaking French just now, so I know you probably didn't understand. Let me translate. He said that we are both very nice ladies, but I am prettier and obviously much smarter. Don't take it to heart, though".

I laugh. I really don't want to, but I laugh. It feels good after the last few days of pressure and stress. "Okay, here," I take the folders out of my bag while Cosima brings another chair over to the table she chose.

"Oh wow. I hope he doesn't go looking for these. This is a lot," she says, looking over the tabs before opening anything.

"Yes, and these ones were in the very front, so we should really hope he doesn't go looking for them," I try not to sound too irritated about it, but I know I am.

"What are these numbers?" she's looking at the files with the profiles.

"I assume they're to identify subjects without–"

"Dude, Sarah?" she interrupts. "Oh, that makes sense. Birth defect, twins," she looks over Sarah's profile. "322D01? Weird. Why isn't there a spot for Kira in the family section?"

"Leekie didn't know that she had a daughter for some reason. See the note?" I point it out and she nods at it.

"Her parole officer is her monitor? Huh. Well, she's done with all that in like a month. She just told me that in our last Skype call. That's stupid," she closes Sarah's file without looking at the rest of the items. She looks pissed, but I can't tell why.

"324B21?" I see she's picked up her own. I grab Sarah's and look through it more thoroughly. "Did you know that?" I shake my head. "It's weird seeing a summary of my life so far fit on one page. What's this?" she points at a section underneath her picture.

"Self-aware?" the box is checked 'no'. She moves her finger down further, eventually stopping at another odd item. "Perception?"

"Ouias…why does the box next to it say that?" I look at the box again.

|Self-aware: | N |

If NO

|Perception: | ORPHANED |

"Yeah, I don't know what the hell that's supposed to mean. It kind of implies that I'm not…"

"Do you think that could be possible?" Looking at Sarah's, I see hers says the same thing. I flip to some of the last pages of her folder while Cosima thinks.

"That I was never an orphan? I mean, it would be weird to make me believe that I was if my adopted parents are my real parents". I take a moment to read through the document I flipped to.

"What if you are an orphan, but you weren't given away, you were taken?" I point to the page in Sarah's pile and take Cosima's profile from her to see if there's a similar document.

"Received April 15, 1984," she reads aloud. "I don't recognize these names, though," I gesture for her to read further down while I continue searching through her profile. "Monitor dismissal, December 1, 1988? It's got a list of like six fostering places…goes up to 1992. Subject location unknown. There's no more information on her until 2008. Partner monitor, dismissed; partner, dismissed; coworker, dismissed. Jesus. So many of her relationships were just bullshit". She turns the page and continues reading in her head.

"I assume that's for every subject," I point out.

"Delphine?" she looks pale. "I think this is in fact an illegal study. This is signed by Sarah's first two monitors," she points at the page and moves her chair next to mine. "If the authorities, law enforcement, or any government official inquire about the nature or existence of this research, I understand that my compliance with their request will result in my dismissal and may lead to my immediate termination".

"Termination…" I read again, watching her swallow nervously as she stares at the words. "That could mean the same thing as dismissed?"

"Then they wouldn't have needed to put it twice," she's not going to buy the false comfort I'm attempting to sell.

"That's probably why they haven't been turned in for this yet. Plenty of people seem to know, but they're either always watching their back or already dead. But still, we have to get this to the police. This is proof, right?"

"The funding documentation," I accidentally ignore her, but she doesn't seem to mind. "Do you remember them? The ones that were sent to our office accidentally and Leekie wanted back? The ones I made copies of…" she seems to get my point.

"Well, where are the copies?"

"My apartment," she nods and thinks for a moment.

"Okay, let's go there after this, okay?"

"Sure," I'm not sure how comfortable I am going back to my apartment. It's not unlikely that we'd be followed.

"Let's look at mine," she moves her folder so it's between us on the table. "Yeah, those are my adoptive parents. It looks like they signed the same thing. Received April 9, 1984. That's exactly one month after my birthday," she stares at the page for a moment. Her expression goes from intense to disappointed quickly. "Why doesn't it say who my real parents are then? There's nothing here that says anything about my birth parents or my place of birth or time or anything," she exhales loudly, understandably upset.

"Let's just keep looking. Maybe there will be – oh, here look. Origin might tell you some things," I point at the top of the page: SUBJECT ORIGIN.

"Awesome," she reads it over silently. I can't see through her hair, so I decide to just let her read it. "Nope. Nothing about birth parents. But there's other weird information like this," she points to one of the first items on the page.

"Embryo Composition in Lab B. Embryo DNA Tag: 324B21. Surrogate: Sally Niehaus. Implantation trials: two. Cesarean section birth. Procedure in Dyad facility, March 9, 1984. Subject released from facility April 9, 1984," I stop reading, not really able to make any contextual sense of it.

"Surrogate?" she says, looking around the room, unable to focus on one particular thing.

"Embryo Composition…What does that mean?"

"Okay, okay. So, I was, uh, implanted. Not adopted. Weird".

"Yes, and I suppose you were also composed in a lab," I say sarcastically. "Cosima, can we take a break?" Even being a scientist, this is complex and tiring.

"Oh, yeah dude. Do you want to go grab the stuff from your place? Maybe we can get something to eat, too," I nod. It sounds like a great idea. We pack up our things and head back downstairs.

"Oh, you are leaving me already?" Lucien comments from the register. He sounds nervous. I wonder if he believed Cosima when we first came in.

"Don't worry, Luci. We're coming back. Just need to eat," he nods and smiles strangely at Cosima. He can't be so gullible that he'd believe we're on a "top-secret mission".

I shift the stack of files in my arms again. "Euh, Cosima?" she turns to look at me. I try to talk quietly. "Maybe we should leave these here. If there are people following us or waiting at our homes, I don't want to be caught with them. I certainly won't leave them in my car," I think I was quiet enough that the old man didn't overhear.

"Yeah, I getcha. Hey, Luci. Do you have anywhere we could keep these while we're gone? Don't want to spill crap on them. You know me and my dexterity," she smiles charmingly, and he closes his eyes like he's remembering Cosima's past dexterity issues…

"Of course, come here," he leads us into the office behind the counter, messy, smells like an array of foods. "You can lock them in here," he opens one of the many cupboards that line the inner wall. I hand the stack to Cosima and she puts them on the empty shelf. Lucien closes and locks the door. "You eat now?"

"Yes, thanks a lot. We'll see you in a bit. Don't get robbed," at that he smiles genuinely. I hope he doesn't take a peek while we're gone. He probably wouldn't understand it anyway.

* * *

I pull up to my apartment and look over at Cosima who seems to be barely awake. "Where do you want to eat after we're done here?" I say to bring her attention to the fact that we're parked at our destination.

"Oh, um, wherever is fine," she says tiredly and exits the car. We slowly make our way to my unit, and she yawns the whole way. It's really not that late, but we've had a tiring day.

"Okay, I'll just be a second," I say as we enter. She sits on my couch and looks around. It's been a while since she's been in my apartment. I grab the small stack from a locked door in my desk and we head back out.

"Can I drive? I think it'll help me stay awake," Cosima asks as we approach my car.

"Sure. I'll skim these over, then," she nods and thanks me. She drives back in the direction of the bookstore, so I assume we'll find something to eat on the way there.

I scan through the first page and find nothing too interesting. Most of the information is abbreviated or uses ID numbers that I don't know. I start to pay a bit more attention when I get to a page of transactions under Cosima's ID. Most of the first transactions were in the thousands, credited to Dyad by "GNIEHAUS" and "SNIEHAUS" who I assume are Cosima's parents. After that, I see the transactions are coming _from_ Dyad. I skip to the bottom and see "_sdavydov_" handwritten in. My eyes wander to the entries before "_sdavydov_" who I assume is Shay. These ones are printed, so easier to read than the photocopied version of handwrite.

"Cosima?" I mumble. She responds by glancing over at me. "What is the name of the bookstore?"

"It's…uh, I can't remember off the top of my head. It's not like it says it anywhere on the building and I've never really had to refer to it. I didn't put it on my application for Dyad. Why?"

"Is it _La Petite Librarie_?" I ask, hoping it's not.

"Oh yeah, dude. The Little Bookstore. It's an accurate name. Not as accurate as _La Librarie Vide_, though," she chuckles.

"And what is the owners last name?"

"Luci? Uh, Caine. Seriously, why?"

"Pull over," I try to order as nicely as possible. She raises her eyebrow at me questioningly but pulls into the next vacant parking lot.

"What's wrong?" she asks once the car is turned off.

"Well, I suppose it's not surprising that he would be a monitor if you spent enough time there," I start off, looking over his transactions. "But look," I point near the end of his transactions.

"He was still getting money after I started at Dyad? While Shay was my monitor? Why?"

"Well, it's only twice. One of those times, the last one on there, I think is around when you took me there. Look at the date," she nods, leaning over to look closer.

"Two hundred bucks? What the fuck, did he call right after we left and tell Leekie that I was there with you?" She looks up at me and I can see the growing anger in her eyes.

"I don't know why that would be worth two hundred dollars. Is that when you first started working for Lucien?" I point to his first transaction.

"Uh, no. No, I think I started like one or two months before that. But that's about the time he got robbed," she pushes her glasses up and looks closer. "Yeah, like a week after. I had to go through so much paperwork and interview stuff for that. Overkill, if you ask me," she leans back in her chair.

"Why? Did they suspect you?" I can't imagine Cosima being the prime suspect in something like that. She'd be too dismissive and defiant. It almost makes me laugh imagining it.

"No, I saw the guy's face and he shot me, so a lot of describing and filling out whatever forms I was given to go to the doctor".

"You were shot?" I understand this happened years ago, but I'm still feeling panic come over me.

"Yeah, just a graze, really. The scar is almost gone," she lifts up her shirt and shows me a small spot on the left side of her waist. A small mark of lighter raised skin. I brush my fingers over it and feel the unevenness.

"I'm so sorry, Cosima," I pull my hand away when I see the goosebumps on her skin and frozen expression on her face.

"Ah, dude, don't be. Let's just focus," she fixes her shirt and returns her attention to the files in my lap. "So, like just a couple days before Luci got that first payment, this person got two thousand fucking dollars," she points out. I look at the top of the page: "CNTRCTR-PD".

"Contractor, probably. PD, though. Do you think that's the police department?"

"Yeah, probably. I haven't really had any run-ins with the law, though. I don't know what they would've gotten so much money for. Do you think he was bribed after the robbery?"

"It's not out of the question. After the first payment to "LCAINE" there was another one going directly to "LA-PETITE-LIBRARIE" for a couple thousand. That new security system, surely. And whenever he has extra information, he calls and they pay him however much they think it's worth?"

"Yeah, it's just fucking weird. I trusted Luci," she shakes her head and looks up at the slowly darkening sky.

"He still seems to care about you. Maybe–"

"Oh shit, Delphine," she interrupts, her eyes widening. She turns the car back on and hastily gets back onto the road. "How much do you think us showing up with a stack of top-secret files is worth to Leekie?"

"Merde," she's right. I doubt we'll get back there in time to confront Lucien about it. He may have even called while we were still there.

"Shit, shit, shit shit. I've never wanted to hit an old man with your car as much as I do now," I look at her with a worried expression. "Don't worry, I won't," she pushes me playfully.

I know that now is not a convenient time for these feelings, but the gentle touch leaves me craving something more. I stare at her hand for a while, laying limply on the arm rest between us. I hope I'm not so sick of a person that I want to induce her flirtatious behaviors by expressing interest that isn't there. I look out my window for the rest of the drive.

"Alright, let's go assess the damage," she throws me my keys back when we're both out of the vehicle. I stuff the funding files in the pouch behind my seat. "Look at that," she says pointing to the garbage can in front of the door. "That's why you don't throw your cigarettes away while they're still lit," I take a second look and see some remnants of smoke coming out of it.

"I didn't smoke when we left, and that doesn't smell like my cigarettes anyways," I complain.

"Right, sure," she winks at me, but we get to the door before I can argue. "Luci," Cosima shouts before the door is even closed behind us.

"Cosima," I grab onto her arm, frightened to provoke him for some reason. She squeezes my hand reassuringly and nods. It helps on a miniscule level.

"Lucien! Where are you, man?" We both turn suddenly when we hear him coming out of his office. He's sniffling loudly.

"Cosima. Cosima, I'm sorry," I can see Cosima's expression soften slightly, but not much.

"What did you do?" Cosima growls back, unsympathetically. "What did you tell him?"

"I said just that you have come here with your petite amie and sit upstairs with a stack of paper and you whisper so I can't hear you, that is all," I believe the man, but Cosima has some unreadable expression.

"Uh, not petite amie, Lucien. But, that's it, that's all you said? And then you hung up and that's it?" I can sense that she wants it to be that simple, that she could forgive him for just that. However, the way he's looking back at her makes me think it's not.

"He asked where you are going with the papers, and I said that you leave them with me and…and he told me to destroy them, to burn them," the man can't keep his eye contact any longer. He faces his shoes and closes his eyes.

"Please, please Lucien, tell me you haven't done it yet," Cosima pleads. Lucien sniffles again and then looks up. He stares at Cosima for a moment and then moves his focus to the door. Cosima and I both turn around. At first, I think there's someone there, but the way Cosima is running to the door, I can tell she knows what he was gesturing at.

The door closes behind Cosima before I get to it, and, not long after, I hear an echoing metallic strike. When I open the door, I see Cosima standing over the trash can, knocked over and halfway emptied on the grass. Her hands are covering her eyes underneath her glasses.

"Nothing left?" I ask, looking at the charred remnants of the trash's content. She shakes her head and sucks in a staggered breath. I know I shouldn't, not for a second time today, but I wrap my arms around her as tight as I can. At least this time I'm not the one in need of comfort. She slowly wraps her arms around my waist and tucks her head down onto my shoulder.

"Like…there really wasn't much there to draw conclusions from, and it's not that bad that the shit is gone, it's just…"

"You feel betrayed?" she sighs and nods. "Well, we can't do anything about that now, so what do you want to do?"

"Go home," she answers with another sigh. I nod and we return to the car. At this point, neither of us care much if there is someone waiting there with a chainsaw.

I don't know why, but when we get back to Cosima's apartment, I automatically go up with her. We take our respective places on her couch and don't talk for a while. We're both worn out. Ignoring responsibility and proper boundaries, I oblige when she asks me to stay. I sleep better at her place anyway.

* * *

I notice that waking up is nicer here, too. I switch her alarm off and turn back to face her. She never wakes up when her radio starts playing. I wonder how long it takes when I'm not here and it keeps going. She doesn't even stir. I try my best to not analyze my reasoning for enjoying my morning routine of watching her sleep. It's an instance where Cosima isn't smiling, but she's not upset.

We're under the covers this time, thankfully. Between us, I see Cosima's fingers sticking out from underneath the blanket, her many rings visible. I try to get a closer look at them, see if they match or are coordinated, but they seem arbitrary. She probably just wears them because she thinks they're pretty and can't choose just one. I pick her hand up and move her fingers around. I wonder if it's uncomfortable to sleep with them on.

Without really thinking about it, I slide them off. They make a neat little pile next to the pillow. Her hand looks so much different without them. The skin where the rings were covering is slightly softer. I feel each of her fingers, examining what makes them so different now. However, I can't seem to find the answer, so I just continue playing with her hand. It's a wonder she doesn't wake up. There is so much I could do without her waking up – I could push her off the bed, surely, and she'd still be sound asleep on the floor. I smile to myself.

Against my logical will, I find myself sliding my fingers between hers, interlacing them. I watch her expression for a moment before I curl my fingers so that I'm holding her hand. It doesn't feel bad. I like the feeling, even if it's only known to me. It's comfortable, soft, calming.

I panic for a moment when I feel her gently grip onto my hand, thinking she woke up. Her eyes are still closed, though. She pulls my hand closer, tucks it under her chin, and adjusts slightly in her sleep so that she has my whole arm captured. If I was reckless enough, I would stay still and enjoy it, but I know the consequences upon her waking would be uncomfortable, to say the least.

It still takes a minute for me to get enough motivation to slowly slip my hand out of her grasp, regretting every moment of it. I go back to staring at her peaceful expression. Although, it's starting to look less peaceful by the second. Her eyebrows are bunching up, a grimace forming, and her shoulders are shifting inward.

I'm about to shake her awake, when she coughs lightly and wakes up on her own. She continues coughing as she sits up in bed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand which is slowly being covered in red speckles. I hand her the box of tissues behind her alarm clock. She takes a few and I scurry to her kitchen for a glass of water.

Cosima coughs for what seems like an hour, bloodying eight or nine tissues. I just sit in front of her holding the water, waiting for her to have enough breath to take a drink. At this point, I'm not sure water is going to make much of an impact. I put my hand on her shoulder to stabilize her while she drinks. She looks ready to pass out and I really don't know if I can mentally handle that again. I know it's worse for her, but I still can't bear it.

"Thanks," she barely rasps out. I nod, unable to speak at the moment. "So, uh, good morning," she smiles and takes another drink of water.

"Cosima, you need to see a doctor," I say exasperatedly, scooching closer to her on the bed.

"Well, I've got you, and when you're not around I know I have a mirror in here somewhere," she sets the empty glass on the nightstand, along with the box of tissues.

"Cosima, seriously," she gets up and grabs all the soaked tissues.

"I thought the point of the study is to not be in and out of doctor's offices with useless treatment. If there's a treatment for this 'birth defect' then I would assume there wouldn't need to be a secret study," she reasons. She throws the handful of tissues away and rinses off in the kitchen. I don't respond. She's right, but I'd still rather her see a doctor. I guess I should tell Dr. Leekie and see if he has any action plan. "Uh, Delphine?"

"Hm?" I look up and see Cosima staring at her right hand.

"Where are my, uh…" she holds her right hand up next to her left one and I see what's missing.

"Oh, euh. I, euh, earlier I took them off because they looked uncomfortable. I'm sorry, I just didn't want to wake you and…" I can't think of what else to say.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, I usually take them off at night, but I forget a lot. Thanks, I guess, you weirdo," she walks around the side of the bed I'm on and scoops up her rings from the mattress. I can feel my cheeks warming up as she goes on with her morning routines. The idea that she somehow felt me holding her hand is eating away at me. "So, ready for work?" Cosima shouts from the bathroom, muffled by the toothbrush in her mouth.

"Oh, I forgot about it actually. Yes, I suppose," Cosima exits the bathroom after she finishes, and I watch her as she goes through her drawers. She throws a shirt on her bed, then a short skirt and some fishnet tights.

"I'm getting dressed, just so you know," she says, already pulling her shirt off. Thankfully, she at least has a bra on underneath. I'm about to turn around on the bed or get up, but I catch a glimpse of her small scar again.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you've been shot?" I rest my hand on her waist and feel the scar with my thumb.

"I, uh," she starts quietly, a nervous laugh interrupting her. "I wasn't really _shot_ shot. I was shot _at_ and one just happened to graze me. Barely hurt, you know?" I nod absentmindedly.

I look closer at the lighter patch of skin and notice a very fine trail leading to her back. I put my other hand on her stomach, prompting her to turn. It takes me a moment to focus again, though, with the smoothness and warmth I feel under my hands. I trace my fingers from the start of the scar to where I finally see an end. "I thought you said it grazed you?"

"Oh, well, uh. Grazed…kind of all the way through…same thing," she takes a deep breath as if standing is becoming a lot of work.

"There's an entrance and an exit mark," she faces me again, my hands steadying her still. I look up to see a more blank expression than I was expecting. She usually has a little half smile when she's caught in these types of lies. She's not smiling, though, she's staring intently at me, her eyelids growing heavier.

"Ugh," Cosima exhales when she almost collapses on me. Her hands grasp onto my shoulders and I tighten my hold on her waist. Her head is hanging down between us. "Delphine?"

"What's wrong Cosima?" I can feel her arms trembling a bit and her legs start to lean against the edge of the bed.

"Delphine, I'm totally going to pass out," she shakes her head, trying to avoid it somehow.

"Sit down, come on," she shakes her head again, unwilling. I roll my eyes at her illogical defiance and wrap my arms all the way around her. She doesn't have much strength to fight me as I do my best to turn her and make her rest for a moment. She loses her grip on the floor when she's almost to the bed and slips forward. It takes most of my strength and all of my body's momentum to keep her from hitting the ground, and instead, pulling her back up onto the bed, laying her on her back and inevitably following her.

"Ugh," she complains again. I move my hands out from underneath her, but I'm still positioned on top of her. We both catch our breath for a moment without moving. She seems awake still, so it wasn't a complete failure. Denying my body's irrational wishes, I start to lift myself up. I don't get far, feeling my shirt caught on something. I look down and see it's Cosima's hands, attempting to keep me down. For the time being, I indulge and lay back down, slotting my head next to hers just over her shoulder.

"Are you okay? Still conscious?" I feel her nodding against my cheek. I've caught my breath for the most part, but she's still breathing heavily.

"Sorry," she says quietly with an exhale and lets go of my shirt. I don't move, unable to deny myself the pleasure a second time. It seems like she gives up too, resting her hands back on my waist where they were previously clinging to my shirt.

When she finally catches her breath, I know I have to move. The silence alone is giving this too much meaning. I slowly lift myself so that I'm at least propped on my forearms, but then I feel her hands slide against my waist as I move up. The soft friction combined with our position gives me chills and keeps my muscles from moving any further. I close my eyes and try to compose myself.

When I open my eyes, I catch Cosima staring intently at my lips. I don't think she even notices my eyes are open, and so, for no particular reason, I stare at her lips, too. They're parted, moving only slightly with her breath, which is still minty from brushing her teeth. She smells like the perfume she always wears, sweet.

Once again, despite a million things telling me to do otherwise, I feel my arms lowering me back down until my lips meet hers. Her heavy intake of breath only motivates me further. I kiss her again and feel her hands trying their best to resist pulling me closer. I ignore her restraint and eliminate all the space between us. This kiss seems different from the rest we've had. It's methodical instead of functional. It's sensual and carnal. It's not out of control, it's _too_ controlled. I want more, but I'm too disconnected from my own cognition to suggest it coherently.

Against my will, a whimper escapes me as I feel Cosima's bare hands on the skin of my back, under my shirt. We could be no closer, but she's still pulling me toward her like she can somehow make it happen. As my shirt rides up in the back with her hands, so does the front, supplying the overwhelming sensation of the warm skin of our bodies meeting.

I'm wholly ready to just tear my damn shirt off, but we both jump at the sound of Cosima's cellphone. My tongue retracts from her mouth and I immediately regain some amount of brain power. I try to get up, but Cosima holds me down and looks at me like an angry parent.

"Delphine, hold on. Listen," she only proceeds when I stop resisting. "Do. Not. Freak. Out. Okay? Please, please, don't freak out. You can't do that to me again. Just, please, not again," the pleading in her voice and on her face break my heart.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I, euh," I have no idea what to say.

"Don't be sorry, just…we'll talk about it later, okay? That was probably someone asking where I am. We're, like, an hour late," I look at the clock and jump up, this time without Cosima holding me down.

"Merde, merde, merde," I pull my shirt down and look for my own phone.

"Delphine, look at me," Cosima calls, sitting up now. Still shirtless. I stop and do as she says, trying not to stray from her eyes. "We are going to talk about this, okay? And, like, no bullshit either. But don't think about it today and get all worried and distracted or whatever. Can we talk after work?" I think for a moment and then nod. Maybe I can think of something to say by then. Somehow explain myself, my actions. "Okay, good. And seriously, don't freak out. Be cool. Act normal and not like someone who just saw a fucking ghost". I can hear the slight offense in her voice, though she's trying to keep it out.

"Okay, euh, let's go," she finishes getting dressed and we leave within ten minutes.

* * *

"Hey, Cos. Why are you so late?" I hear one of Cosima's coworkers ask when we both walk in. "Both of you…" he adds suspiciously.

"Dude, I'm always late. You'll have to ask her why she's late," Cosima replies, the last thing I hear before I enter my office. I don't even have my jacket off when I hear a knock on my door. I'm surprised to see Dr. Leekie. Well, not entirely surprised.

"Dr. Cormier, may I speak with you in my office for a moment?" he has that evil smile that I've recently been exposed to more than I'd like.

"Of course," I shove my cellphone in my pocket and leave the rest of my belongings in my office.

The entire journey to his floor is silent. It feels very much like a child being escorted to the principal's office. When we get there, I notice he's still being his polite, cheesy self. He gestures at the chair in front of his desk and I take the seat.

"You know, Dr. Cormier, despite what you may believe, I do value honesty. So, that being said, is there anything you'd like to share with me?" he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

I know he's obviously talking about the events of last night, and I will tell him, but not before I share my own concerns. "There is, but I'd like to mention something first," he shrugs his shoulders, prompting me to continue, "This morning, Cosima woke up coughing, which is unusual for her. There was a large amount of blood and the coughing fit went on for an extended period of time. It seems like she's getting worse," I finish in one breath.

He nods, "Yes, well. That will happen. Is that all?" He dismisses it completely.

"I stole something…" I start off cautiously. His expression doesn't change. "From your office…yesterday," I stop there for now.

"Oh, I don't think that's all there is to it. Did you share this stolen information with anyone, Dr. Cormier?" he leans forward in his chair, like a snake ready to attack.

"I read over some of it with Cosima," I admit in a small voice. He already knows all of this. He just wants the condescending power over me.

"You know, that makes me wonder what other kinds of things you've shared with Cosima. Because, Dr. Cormier, I do remember you agreeing to not share these things with the subject. Am I mistaken?"

"Cosima doesn't know much," I try to lessen my offenses. "All I told her is that she is a part of a study that her parents signed her up for and that she has a birth defect that you are trying to study. Completely observational…" I sound too frantic, I know.

"Why should I believe that's all you told her?" he asks with a smile.

"Well, because I didn't want her to lose control of her temper and come confront you. Plus, that is pretty much the extent of what you told me," he nods his head, still smiling that upper-hand smile.

"There was a lot of extra information on those documents you stole. You think I can't figure out which ones are missing?" he glances back at his filing cabinet.

"We barely read anything. We asked Lucien to keep them safe while we went to get food. You can ask him that," I'm impressed by my own acting skills.

"True, true. That is what he told me. But you can understand why I don't trust you to be a monitor anymore, can't you?"

"No, no you should trust me more," it's a desperate move, but I'll try anything. "I care a lot about Cosima, I want to help her. Whatever this birth defect is, I have a degree in immunology. I can help with a treatment or cure. Cosima, too. She's a scientist, she'd be very interested, not to mention motivated, to research–"

"Yes, but that would mean sharing all the little details that we don't want known," he interrupts. "And our main focus right now isn't a cure or treatment, it's just observing," he smiles again.

"Well, that's just not right, Dr. Leekie. If you don't want to find something to help, at least let me," I try to be assertive, logical.

"Ha, no. Look, let's not drag this out, Dr. Cormier. You will no longer be serving as a monitor. You have proven yourself to be one of the most untrustworthy monitors I've met. So, right now we're waiting for a nice man to come and, uh…deliver your termination paperwork," he says like it's an inside joke. The problem there is that I know exactly what termination means, and it's very different from dismissal.

"Termination paperwork? You know, I won't tell anyone about the study, what little I know about it," I don't know how to get myself out of this one.

"Oh, I know you won't. Termination paperwork is always very persuasive," he says ominously. I hate playing along. "You know, Cosima's last monitor was hell bent on going to the police, telling Cosima, making a mess of things. She was a bit…let's say _disappointed_ when she needed to be replaced. After her termination paperwork, not a word was spoken".

"What could be so convincing about the paperwork?" I ask, trying to make it sound like I completely believe this is paperwork, a plan forming in my head.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see," he smiles to himself, staring into space. He is all too pleased with his 'deception', but that makes it easier to work with.

"Well, how long with he be? Cosima and I got, euh, distracted this morning and I haven't eaten anything yet. You have a vending machine on this floor, yes?" I look behind me out the door.

"You know, even though I encourage it, and am entertained by it, I always find it so filthy when a monitor and subject get physically involved," he comments, more to himself, I think. "I mean, they're not even fully human in my opinion".

"Well, they do appear quite human. They feel human…" I accidentally say out loud.

"Oh yes. Of course, when you're designed that way. I mean, Delphine, if you saw the array of other 'people' who look identical to the one you're sleeping with, you would see it differently. Just another copy. Like fifty pages coming out of a photocopier that all have someone's ass on them, but you know the copies aren't the actual ass," he laughs at his joke. I'm beyond confused, and I don't think I want to understand. He sees my expression and tones it down to just a smile. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I still value them all as subjects. I helped create them, how could I not have some emotional investment? But, c'mon, sticking it in a clone? It's basically a high-end sex doll if you're using it that way. Screwing a lab rat," he knows this is new information to me, I can tell by his stare. However, this might be even better for my poorly thought out plan.

I channel the bubbling terror inside of me into a reaction I feel slightly guilty about. "A clone?" I say with a grimace, then shake my head. "I think I'm nauseous," I clutch my stomach. "You know, I believe I'll be very happy to sign whatever termination paperwork you need," the pressure is helpful in my attempts to make this sound convincing.

"Really? That'd be a first," he smiles to himself like he just talked a fish into swimming willingly into his net.

"I can't imagine why. I hope you understand, but I don't think I can work with her in the lab anymore," he nods. He's convinced, "Dr. Leekie, I really need something to eat. Anything that will help this nausea or else I'm going to vomit on your desk," I gag to give him an idea of what could happen to his immaculate workspace.

"Of course, just, uh, leave your cellphone here. Don't want you running off," I set my cellphone on his desk and calmly make my way to the door. "Oh, and there are no vending machines on this floor. The first floor has plenty, though," I thank him and exit the office. Even walking down the hall, I sway like I'm about to throw up. I keep up the act until I'm several steps down the stairs, well out of his sight.

I want to go warn Cosima, but I know I have very little time. Definitely not enough time to make it all the way down to the basement, explain the whole situation, and make it back to the first floor to flee through the large lobby. I need to get as far away from here as possible. Far away from Cosima. I exit the stairwell on the first floor and calmly make my way to the lobby and front door.

"Dr. Cormier, hey," I hear a familiar voice.

"Scott," I rush to the young man and he gives me a funny look. "Scott, I need…could, euh…do you have a piece of paper, anything?"

"Got a whole notebook, here," he hands me a notebook from the small stack of things in his arms and a pen from his lab coat. I write as fast as I can, tear the page out, and fold it up.

"Scott, I need you to deliver this to Cosima. You need to make sure no one else sees you. And this is extremely important, you have to do this now," I hand the paper to him and he takes it, a bit frozen.

"Okay…" he looks at me like I'm crazy. I ignore it.

"And Scott, no one can know you saw me, and no one can know about this note, do you understand?" he nods. "If anyone finds out, it will be Cosima's safety on the line. And if you don't give her this note right away…" he nods again, more determined this time. Cosima doesn't have many friends, but the people around her respect and care for her.

I watch Scott for a moment as he goes to the stairs, looking a little sick. Once he disappears in the stairwell, I march with my head down to the door. Walking toward my car, I realize that the keys are in my purse which is still in my office, so I turn and walk to the bus stop instead.

The bus pulls up and I'm nervous to get on, suspicious of everybody now. I manage to find a seat in the very back, scrunching down so that I'm invisible to almost everyone. I don't get off until all the passengers have gotten off and a whole new set of people occupy the bus. It takes over an hour. The entire time, I can't stop thinking about Cosima. Will she be safe? Will she know what my note means? Will she be irresponsible and try to find me? Will she confront Dr. Leekie and get herself killed? Will I ever see her again?

The last concern haunts me the most.


	7. Cactus

"Coughing fits since last Friday?"

"Uh, Saturday, twice on Sunday, none on Monday or Tuesday, once Wednesday morning, once last night, and nothing so far today".

"Blood?"

"The second one on Sunday, and some last night".

"Length?"

"All under fifteen minutes I'm pretty sure".

"Lightheadedness? Dizziness?"

"Yeah, all of them".

"Fainting?"

"Sunday after the second one".

"Alright, Cosima," he looks over last week's chart. "Not too many changes, you're all done for today," he puts his folder down and gives me a smile, inviting me to leave.

I walk back down to the lab, the fake smile I had to plaster on slowly melting off as I descend the stairs. Scott's the only one already in the lab.

"What is it with you and Leekie lately?" he asks as casually as he can manage – which is not very casually.

"We're in love. Jealous?" I raise my eyebrows at him as I pass on my way to my own station.

"No, it's just…Are you ever going to tell me anything?" he barely finishes his sentence before two other people enter the lab.

"Nope," I answer. He makes his way over to me.

"Cosima," his voice drops, "I'm worried. I mean, it's been three weeks. Aren't you concerned? Especially after what she said?"

"The note was reassuring. Everything is fine, Scott. Just be normal, dude. You're making everyone suspicious," I try to shoo him off by prepping my station. He gets the hint and reluctantly moves back to his side of the room.

Honestly, I am terrified, but I can't give anyone that impression. It's bad enough having Scott be weird.

**9:06 AM**

**You:** _hey, we should stop meeting at work. It's making people look at me like I'm sketchy. Scott thinks we're lovers.. D:_

**9:09 AM**

**Dr. Leechy:** _Where would you prefer?_

**9:10 AM**

**You:** _somewhere not at work_

**9:13 AM**

**Dr. Leechy:** _Home visit?_

**9:15 AM**

**You:** _if you can handle my apartment..sure_

He doesn't text back. Of course not. That would be decent. He's like an asshole with really charming ass cheeks. Still an asshole when you get past the cheeks.

"_Okay, Cosima. I think we will start having you come up once a week now. What day works best for you?"_

"_I don't know…Fridays? This is all really weird," I try to sound excited-nervous, not please-don't-kill-me-nervous._

"_I understand. This is uncharted territory for us, too. But you're doing great so far. Just keep living normally," Leekie smiles like a doctor who's telling his patient to just shut up. _

"_But…you're working on a treatment, right?"_

"_Of course, Cosima. You'll be the first to know, even if it's experimental," he assures. I don't mention that anything he comes up with is going to be experimental. _

"_Maybe I can help? I'm obviously motivated"._

"_Cosima, we've got our best people on it. Now, I can't stop you from studying yourself, and you can use the lab for whatever tests you'd like to run, but leave the rest up to us," he does the impatient doctor smile again. _

"And Dr. Niehaus," I look up at the lab tech guy, "Here," he hands me some stapled pages.

"Cosima, dude. Cosima," he shrugs his shoulders and leaves.

I flip through the lab results but find nothing of significance. I might have Scott glance over it, but it looks like another dead end. Not autoimmune, not viral, not bacterial, not pregnant with quintuplets, not a superhero whose superpower is to cough up blood on a semi-regular basis.

I shove the newest lab results into my bottom drawer, which is slowly filling up. I thought that working in a lab would be more exciting, that I would actually know what I'm processing. Everything here is so compartmentalized. No one knows the big picture. It's hard to stay motivated.

I grab my bag, lock up my drawers, and head to the parking lot. It's getting colder outside and darker earlier. The sunlight is already starting to fade and it's barely five o'clock. It makes me grateful for the car. I blast the heat and drive to Delphine's apartment.

When I arrive, I knock on the door, "Anyone home?"

I wait for a moment, but there's no answer. Like usual. I unlock the door and let myself in. Delphine has one plant in her living room. I stop by her apartment every night after work to water it. However, it's a cactus so it doesn't need much watering. Most days I just stand in front of it, ask it if it's thirsty, and then leave after a minute of awkward silence. It's a very rude cactus.

I lock her apartment back up and then drive to my own. My movements are sluggish, even though I'm really not that tired. The fatigue is a little better since she first disappeared, but it's still nearly immobilizing. I fall backward onto my couch and kick my shoes off. The blanket is still on the floor from when I hastily got up this morning. I pull it back up over me and close my eyes, foregoing dinner. Probably wouldn't eat it anyway.

"_Dr. Niehaus?" I hear someone approach my station. I don't even look up when I respond. _

"_Cosima," I say through my teeth. _

"_Cosima, Dr. Leekie wants to see you in his office," I look up, mildly worried. The young man is already on his way back out. _

_Scott looks at me from his side of the room questioningly. I shrug my shoulders and try not to look scared. I make my way up to Leekie's office, praying to find some answers there. He smiles through the glass when he sees me approach, then waves me in. I close the door behind me since I know he would get up to do it anyways if I didn't, and then sit in the chair in front of his desk since I know he would tell me to do exactly that._

"_Cosima, good to see you. How are you adjusting to the lab?" he asks so casually I wonder if any of this drama is real. _

"_Uh, good. I know most of the people already, so it was pretty easy…" my natural smile isn't quite functional today. _

"_Good, I'm glad," he nods. His smile seems to come easier than mine. "I wanted to talk to you about the things Dr. Cormier has told you," he gets to the point quicker than I thought he would. _

"_About the study, yeah. What's up?" _

"_Well, I want to make sure you're correctly informed. Would you be able to tell me the things she discussed with you? Now that you know, I figure it would be best to make sure you get the whole picture," it's a decent cover for 'how much did she blab?'_

"_Not much. It didn't sound like she knew a lot. She told me that my parents put me in this study because of some rare birth defect I apparently have. You guys observe all the people in the study but don't do any, like, interference," I nod, but he doesn't seem satisfied. "I think she told me because she was worried about me getting sick. She only told me after I got worse, you know," he nods, but still doesn't respond. "Actually, as far as scientific research goes, it would kind of be considered noble of you guys to study such a rare thing and not claim credit for it, you know? And, like, I'm almost thirty years old. That's thirty years of dedication from you and your team. I guess I should thank you, huh?"_

"_No need, Cosima," stroking his pride indeed seems to work the best. "I'm glad you see it that way. Dr. Cormier was right about one thing: you do look at this as a scientist," he leans further back in his chair, evidently satisfied with my false admiration. "You know, we've always thought about letting a subject or two in on the whole thing. A control group of sorts. I guess we were given that opportunity with you," he smiles like he's trying to butter me up. "Tell me, Cosima, would you be interested in being a self-aware subject who self-reports?"_

"_Dude, yeah. Anything for science. Especially if the science is me," I smile genuinely. I'm not really that full of myself, but it is cool to be a subject. Kind of. _

"_That's great, great. So, could we start you off with three times a week?" he sits up and gets a scheduling notebook out of his desk. _

"_Three times of what?" _

"_Oh, meeting with me and describing your current symptoms, that's all," he does seem excited. I wonder if he's got a tad bit of honesty in this whole ruse. _

"_Works for me," I get my phone out to coordinate with him. It feels like a really odd thing to do. We agree on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. _

"_Alright, you're all set. After about two weeks of this, I think we can move to once a week," he closes his notebook and sets his pen on top of it._

"_Sounds good, yeah," I sense that he's about to send me off, but he notices my demeanor and waits for me to speak again. "Dr. Leekie, I was wondering if you know where Delph–uh Dr. Cormier is? The last time I saw her was yesterday right before she went to meet with you and we usually see each other every day. She hasn't even responded to any of my texts. Did she mention anything?"_

"_Oh goodness, yes, I almost forgot," he digs around in his center drawer, "In the middle of our meeting yesterday, Dr. Cormier received word of some family emergency and left before we could finish. Ah, here," he hands me what I recognize to be Delphine's cellphone. "In her haste, she forgot her phone". _

_I take the phone and try to look surprised. "Oh, dude that would explain it. That sucks, I hope everything is okay. Did she say what happened?" I can see he's rather discontent with my continued presence. _

"_No, Cosima, not really. Something about her father being sick," I already knew it was a lie, but that most certainly confirmed it. It's pretty hard to be sick when you died, like, two decades ago. _

"_And, uh…when she comes back, does she still get to be my monitor? I'd really like that, I trust her". _

"_If she returns, it wouldn't matter. Since you're self-reporting, you don't need a monitor," he points out. I try to ignore the 'if' at the beginning of that. _

"Ugh, shut up," I mumble to my phone's alarm. I'm not used to the incessant beeping type.

The weekend went by quickly. I was under the influence of several things, so I'm sure that had something to do with it. I don't usually have a headache after being…rambunctious, but it seems like today is an exception. I roll off my couch and get ready for work.

Scott is gone today, making lab just that much more disappointing. If I had the opportunity to go back to being Delphine's assistant, I may just take it. She's not here, though.

After finishing my routine of not watering Delphine's cactus, I spend a lot of Monday night coughing. Only once do I consider it a full-on coughing fit. The rest is just intermittent hacks.

Tuesday is better, I just feel dizzy for most of the day. Scott is back. Delphine isn't.

Wednesday is fine, a short coughing fit in the morning, super tired in the evening. The fatigue is especially convenient because Leekie decides that Wednesday is the day he's going to start coming over for "home-visits". He doesn't stay long, hopefully getting the hint that I don't want to be awake. The hint being me falling asleep on the couch while he asks me questions.

For no particular reason, I wake up Thursday morning with an awful headache. It takes me a moment to get out of bed (couch). Mornings like these, I'm extra grateful for the car. I'll miss it when Delphine comes back. I wonder how long she'll be gone. It's been about a month.

"Lemme ask you something, Cos," Scott startles me. I don't even have my coat off and he's at my station. "Something that's been bothering me…"

"What's on your mind?"

"Well, I don't mean to bring this up all the time, but Dr. Cormier, the last thing she did before fleeing the building was write a note to you. She was incredibly worried. And also, you guys talked a lot. And you came in at the same time, and you left early together, and you stayed late so it was just you and–"

"Your point, Scott?" I finally look up at him. I'm pretty sure I know where this is going.

"Were you two…" I cock my head, prompting him to finish. Daring him to finish. "You know, like, together?" The last word comes out in a mumble.

"It's…complicated. And why are you speaking about her in past tense?" All he's doing is irritating me lately.

"Oh, just cause…well is she even coming back?" he shrugs his shoulders.

"Of course, she's fucking coming back," I nearly yell. I can feel a simmering rage ready to be released.

"Oh, okay. Okay, sorry I wasn't sure," he tries to pacify. I ignore him and just log onto my laptop. He scurries away with his tail between his legs.

Of course, she's fucking coming back. I had that line well prepared because I say it to myself multiple times a day. She can't just not come back. She can't leave all of her stuff here – her car, her apartment, her bills, her phone, her credit cards, her ID, her fucking cactus. Me… I'm her subject! I'm her subject and she's my fucking monitor and she can't just promise she'll come back and not come back. She promised.

_I stuff the note in my pocket. I feel nauseous. She obviously took Scott by surprise. I glance over to his station. He's still shaking._

_Her note was understandable, but so vague. She's coming back, but when? The end of the day? Later this week? Ten years from now?_

_It surprises me that Dr. Leekie hasn't come down here. I'm grateful, but it's odd. I make sure that I'm the last one in the lab, which assigns me clean up duty by default since there's no supervisor. I can't believe it's come to me volunteering to clean. Whatever. _

_I finish the task list pretty quickly on account of me doing a very poor job at everything. Before I turn the lights off and lock up, I pop into Delphine's office and grab her stuff. Somehow, seeing her coat and purse and everything makes me feel a little better. Like she's still here, just in a different room. Self-deception is marvelous. _

I finish rolling my de-stressor and light it as I lay back on the couch. I've become an expert on my ceiling in the last month. Concrete, painted peach, I think. One crack in the center of the ceiling, like eighty cracks by the front door, a couple by the bathroom door. Just another accomplishment to add to my resume.

I'm stamping out the joint when I hear light thuds in the hallway. They're almost simultaneous with my stamping, so my high-self thinks I'm stamping way too hard. It's probably just my neighbor, Tyler. He's the kind of stoner slash drunkard that no one really likes. He's stupid, talks stupid, has a stupid laugh, and is always on something. Thuds in the hall aren't unusual.

However, the brief succession of thuds on my door is unusual. It doesn't really sound like a knock. I hope Tyler doesn't try to break into my apartment (again). A very fun night with his friends brought him stumbling through my door thinking it was his own apartment. I ignore it this time. I've started locking the door since that encounter.

Ten minutes or so pass as I recount the cracks by the bathroom. My eyelids are growing heavier and I'm about to drift off when there's a slow knock at the door. This time, I'm sure it's a knock.

"Hey, Dreads?" I hear from the other side, his words dragging out so much longer than necessary. "I know you're in there. I can perceptively detect a familiar scent…"

"Stop trying to use big words, Tyler. What do you want?" I shout, not moving from my couch. He doesn't require the amount of manners someone more…_not him_ might.

"Uh, I think you got a delivery, dude," God, now he's ruined 'dude' for me. "You should take care of it before the landlord comes for a surprise visit and takes it home with him. Mmm…later, ugh," he makes some unintelligible sound and I hear him shuffling back to his apartment.

I really don't want to get up, but if Tyler took the initiative to tell me about it, I should. For his sake. The landlord isn't really into stealing as far as I know, so it must be something awesome. Or Tyler is hallucinating and there's nothing there – also not unusual.

"Ah, fuck you, curiosity," I growl at myself. The shuffling motion I make on my way to the door makes me feel like I need twelve cats and a dirty robe.

I unlock the chain and deadbolt and as soon as I turn the knob, the weight of my delivery pushes the door open. There's another thud as it hits the floor before my clouded thought process catches up with the item in my doorway.

"Delphine!" I yell a bit too loudly and crouch down. She doesn't reply. I turn her onto her back and see she's unconscious. "Delphine?" Trying to shake her awake proves to be ineffective. I decide to drag her inside before someone sees our predicament.

She's dead weight and I'm not the strongest scientist in Minnesota so it takes a moment and all my effort to get her whole body inside. I kick the door shut behind me, lock it, and kneel next to her again.

"Oh, man. What the fuck…" I look over her body and see an array of injuries. There's bruising around her neck, abrasions everywhere, and especially blood-soaked areas on her clothes. Two spots stand out – one on the front of her shoulder, and one on her thigh. I gently move her shirt over the shoulder injury and see a gauze pad taped over it. Not an inch of it is still its original color, reddened past recognition.

The one on her thigh is harder to get to. I feel weird about pulling her pants down, but I have to see how bad this is. She has sweatpants on, so they're not difficult to remove, but I have to go slowly so that I don't irritate whatever injuries are on her legs. I ball up the pants and put them under Delphine's head. Her shins and knees are scraped up pretty bad, but it's the gauze on her thigh that garners the most attention. It's a bigger pad and it's soaked even more than the one on her shoulder. This one, though, is barely being held on by the tape since there's fresh blood still seeping through the fabric and down her leg.

"Ah, fuck. Uh…stop the bleeding, stop the bleeding," I try to remember all my training from the action movies I've watched. I don't even think I own a belt. I get up and look anyway. My apartment is already a mess, so throwing my clothes around doesn't make much of a difference.

To my surprise, I find a belt. Although, I don't recognize it. Thin, black, not really my style. I run back over to Delphine and fasten it tightly around her thigh. I feel bad because it looks like I'm just putting her in more pain. I whisper 'sorry' over and over again as I adjust the belt. She doesn't react, so that's helpful. I get up again to find something to clean her up with.

"Cosi…" I hear half my name being softly mumbled.

"Hey, hey," I kneel down next to her again.

"Water?" her eyes can't seem to open yet. I jump up and retrieve her request.

"Hey, here. Sit up," I prompt, but I think she's back to being unconscious. "Ah, fuck. Uh, okay," I leave the glass next to her and get up to find my first aid kit. I don't think there's too much for me to offer, but at least it'll have some clean gauze. I get a bowl of warm water and several washcloths.

It takes me a good ten minutes to clear the blood away from her thigh. I figure it's best to do that first so that I know whether I need to tighten the belt. The bleeding seems to have stopped, so I think we're good. I'm too scared to change the gauze, so I'm procrastinating.

The abrasions on her lower legs aren't too bad and all I can really do is wipe off some of the extra blood. I don't have big enough bandages for them, though. Her arms seem to be in good shape, just covered in debris and blood. I notice a hospital band on her wrist. The name isn't hers, though. Marie Cardona? Seeing the hospital band, I look to her wrists and upper forearm. Her left arm, the one with the bloody shoulder, has a small entrance prick in the wrist and some goo left from the tape. Her right arm has several entrance marks on the inside of her elbow and a bit of bruising. She must have ripped both of the attachments out.

Her face is fairly clean and unharmed. There are some scratches on her jaw and forehead, but they look mostly healed. At least scabbed over. They must be older than the rest of her wounds. Her neck, I can't do much about. The bruises are clustered around either side of her neck with quite a bit of discoloration in the front. She was choked. Though, by the color of the bruises, I would say it was almost a week ago. There're some hints of purple still left, but other than that, it's mostly yellowish. I can't imagine what she's been through in the last month.

I sigh and look back to her thigh. I know I have to deal with that or I'm just asking for an infection. I grab a clean washcloth and prepare myself. The tape is easy enough to remove since it's drenched, but the gauze is sticking to the wound. I pull at it gently but almost throw up when the gauze is removed. It looks like a bullet wound. There's a short trail of stitches, one of them torn. I throw out the gauze and dab away the extra blood surrounding the bloody hole. At least it stopped bleeding. I don't try to do much with the actual wound aside from cover it with clean gauze. Once I confirm her legs are pretty much taken care of, I find some clean sweats for her.

"Okay. Cool. Onto shoulder wound…" I just assume this is also a bullet wound. She came in with a very odd outfit. Some dark sweatpants and a button up shirt. However, the button up shirt makes my job easier. I unbutton the front, thankfully she has a tank-top underneath, and slide her arms out of the sleeves. When I set her left arm back down, though, I hear a crinkling sound. I look under her arm, then check her shirt pocket. I find several pieces of paper, folded up, but stained with blood. I unfold them and have a dual feeling of alleviation and alarm.

Of course, even a drugged up, post-surgery Delphine would have the forethought to grab her medical chart. I see the fake name again. Age, 33; Race, Caucasian; Smoking, tobacco cigarettes. The admission date was three days ago, two gunshot wounds. Surgery on thigh was two days ago, no issues, all fragments removed, no bones hit, no sign of infection. Post-surgery: Tramadol and Coumadin. Everything looks really good.

I skip the rest of the page since it's too stained to read. The next page has an outline of a body with drawn in circles where they found injuries. The neck is circled, her thigh and shoulder obviously, but something I'm noticing is that neither of these records mention all the abrasions on her legs. It must have happened after she left. Shaking my head, my trembling fingers fold them back up. I set them on my coffee table and go back to Delphine's shoulder. After the tape is removed, the gauze practically slides off. This wound looks better. There are no stitches, looks like a flesh wound. Just a wide gash across the front of her shoulder. The bleeding has stopped for the most part. I clear the blood from around the wound like I did with her leg, and then replace the gauze.

"Uh, you need a different shirt," I look at the button up one that she's laying on. The tank-top is surprisingly clean, only a few spots of blood from where it trailed down her shoulder. The button up shirt is not in such good shape. I grab a big T-shirt and attempt to put it on her. Much harder than I expected. When I go to slide her left arm through the sleeve, she grimaces and makes a strained croaking sound.

"I'm putting a shirt on you, just hold on," I explain in a soft voice. She nods slowly and I notice her eyes crack open, just barely. It makes me smile, just the relief of it. She attempts to lift her back to assist me with my task but winces and gives up.

"Do you think we could try to get you to the couch?" I ask, hoping she'll at least stay conscious. The bed is too far away and much higher of a climb. She's laying at the end of the couch and it's only a foot and a half climb. She turns her head slowly in the direction of the couch and tries to roll onto her side. I help her into a sitting position, leaning her back against the couch. It's a start.

"Here," I hand her the glass of water she asked for forty-five minutes ago. She sips it for a couple minutes. "How are you feeling?" I know it's kind of a stupid question.

"Comme d'l'merde…" her words barely make it out.

"Yeah, I figured that," I chuckle awkwardly. She sips some more water. "I, uh, I really missed you," I'm surprised by the roughness in my own voice. I feel like I'm about to cry. I don't plan on it, but it sure does feel that way.

She smiles tiredly at me and nods. She looks like she's on her way back to unconsciousness.

"Hold on there, let's try to get on the couch before you pass out again, yeah?" her eyes open back up a bit and she nods again. I take the glass from her and set it next to her medical chart on the coffee table. I wrap my arm behind her, and she uses her good leg to push herself up just enough to make it to the couch. I catch her before she tries to just flop down onto her back. I move the pillow I've been using under her head and gently lift her legs onto the couch. She's already out again. I sigh, a bit disappointed, but overall glad she's alive. Barely.

I put a pillow under her wounded leg and a blanket over her body. Even when she's unconscious she looks like she's in pain. I sit on the floor by the end of the couch and examine her face again. Her hair needs cleaned, there are streaks of blood and dirt, but for now it's not too important. What's important is that she's alive, she's back. Just like she promised. I knew she would come back. I don't know why I ever doubted it. The relief of having her here calms my mind enough that I feel sleep coming to me as well.

_Delphine's been gone for about twenty minutes now. Not enough time to start worrying. I mean, it takes a whole ten minutes just to get to the man's office. No need to worry yet. I log onto my computer and go through my emails. _

"_Hey, Scott?" I would typically just walk to his station, but I'm too anxious to care. _

"_What's up?" he gets up and approaches me, making it look like I summoned him. It's more entertaining than anything. _

"_Why am I getting emails about approvals for a project I'm not a part of?" he looks at my screen and reads over the email quickly. _

"_Oh, that's our team's project. You actually are a part of it, but don't worry about it. I'll do that now," he jogs back over to his station and clicks around on his computer. The printer starts grumbling and Scott grabs his notebook and waits for the machine to finish before taking the stack of paper in his arms. _

"_Scott, your badge," I remind him right as he's about to open the door. He grabs it off his desk and gives me a 'thank you' nod before disappearing. _

_Another thirty minutes go by and I feel like we're getting to the point where I can start worrying about Delphine. Almost an hour with Dr. Leekie… My thoughts are interrupted by Scott re-entering the lab loudly. His eyes are wide and he's looking at the floor while he speed-walks to my station. _

"_Hey, Cosima," he says quietly, setting the tone. I'm the only one on this side of the room today, so he really doesn't have to be that quiet. I go with it anyway. _

"_Everything okay, bud?" I whisper back. _

"_Yep. I just ran into someone upstairs and they said that it was very important I give you this note as quickly as possible and also it is very important that no one knows about this note or the fact that I saw this person. The person said that your safety is on the line and the person looked very serious…" he's still staring at the floor. _

"_Okay, I'm pretty sure you can tell me who the person is, Scott," I try to lighten the mood, but he keeps it pretty heavy. _

"_Here are those approvals, Cosima," Scott says loud enough for everyone in the lab to hear. It's not very subtle. "Just bring them to me when you're done looking them over"._

"_Okay…" Scott nods and shuffles back to his station. He's pretty shaken up. _

_I look at the pile of papers. I don't see a note until I start flipping through them. Scott hid it well. I unfold the piece of notebook paper and see Delphine's handwriting. _

_Cosima – we only saw a few files, barely anything – you know your parents put you in a study for a rare birth defect and you've been observed most your life. Stick to that story. Stay on Leekie's good side – he has a big ego, use that. I'm sorry, I have to leave now. Be normal, you know nothing. I promise I will come back and we'll sort this out._

"_The fuck?"_

"Hey, Delphine. You awake?" I stretch my arms, only now just waking up myself. I fell asleep on the floor so I'm not feeling too great. Better than Delphine, though.

"Cosima," I hear Delphine's voice, much clearer, but still raspy.

"Hey, hey. How're you feeling?" I sit on the edge of the couch and move her hair out of her face, still stuck on from sweat.

"Super," she responds, her accent much thicker. I smile. At least her humor is intact – what little she had to begin with.

"Good to hear. Give me a second, I'm going to call off really quick," I grab my cellphone from the coffee table.

"No, Cosima. You should go in. It will be too suspicious if you don't," I understand her logic, but I'm extremely uncomfortable with that.

"I don't know, Delphine," I look at my phone – I'm already half an hour late.

"I'll be fine. You need to go in," she gently grasps my forearm, so lightly I can hardly tell.

"No, you won't. Can you even walk? I mean, you have literal holes through your body and you're probably ten pounds lighter after losing so much blood. I can't just leave you here," I unlock my phone and scroll through my contacts to find the basement reception office.

"I ran all the way to your apartment, so I think I can walk to the bathroom. Please, I don't want to give them any reason to suspect you're helping me".

"Delphine, what even happened? You disappear for a month and then come back fucking half-dead," I try not to let any of the frustration seep into my voice.

"I'll explain everything when you're done with work," she smiles. I roll my eyes and get up.

Changing my pants is really the only necessary thing since I'll have my lab coat on over my shirt. It takes me less than five minutes to get ready. I spend a couple minutes in the kitchen gathering various items.

"Here," I say as I set everything down on the coffee table. Three water bottles, a box of crackers, the rest of my bananas, grape juice, and a box of generic chocolate chip cookies. She looks it over for a moment and then chuckles. For some reason, it makes me so happy to hear that sound.

"Do you have anything for pain?"

"Oh, um," I run to my bathroom. Not much, I'll have to stop by a store on the way home. "Here. And uh…" I drop a pile of patterned bandages on the table. She smiles tiredly.

"Go to work, Cosima," I look at her for a moment more, hoping she'll say she's kidding, and I should stay, but she doesn't.

* * *

"Are you going to be late every day?" Scott asks as I clock in.

"I wasn't feeling well this morning. I was barely able to get here," I half-lie. I have a plan.

"Oh, are you sick?" he sounds genuinely concerned which makes me feel bad.

"I don't know. It could be a lot of things," he just nods and returns to his morning tasks.

I log onto my computer and check my emails. I grimace and squirm in my seat, rub my stomach, rub my head, put my coat back on. It's already been an hour and a half when Scott finally notices. The people at the stations near me give me funny looks, but don't say anything.

"Hey, everything okay?" Scott whispers when he stops in front of me.

"Yeah, man. It's all good, I was just expecting to feel better once I got here and started doing things. Guess it hasn't kicked in yet," I chuckle.

"Are you sure you want to stick around? If you're sick you shouldn't be here anyways," I feel a twinge of guilt again since he's always nice to me and I'm just using it.

"You have a point, but I'd feel weird just leaving…" I trail off as an actual cough starts to tease my throat. In any other instance, I would do anything to postpone the inevitable, but now it might work to my advantage. I take the chance and clear my throat, which always sets it off. At first it doesn't really spark, but it hits me by surprise a moment later.

Everyone is looking at me now. I forgot that I've never had a coughing fit in front of them before. Scott was one of the people who saw me in the ambulance, but other than that, they don't really know about it.

"Cosima, seriously. Go home, rest. It's Friday, just take a long weekend," I hear Scott say in an oddly assertive voice. I nod as I continue coughing, little red splatters appearing in my palm. The blood would really seal the deal, but I hide my stained hands so that no one gets too worried. I also don't want to be told to go to the hospital.

* * *

I remember to grab some painkillers and extra supplies on the way home, much to my surprise, and by the time I'm walking up the steps to my apartment, it's past noon. Tyler's just leaving his unit when I go to unlock mine.

"Hey Dreads," he pauses when he sees me. "Did you like your present?"

Although he irritates the fuck out of me, he reminds me of something, "Tyler, I need you to listen to me," he nods. "Do not tell anyone about what you saw, okay? Because if you do, I will make sure you regret your birth," I've come up with better threats alone on my couch, but he seems to get the point.

"Whatever, man. It's all good," he puts his hands up, backing away. Oh, how I wish he'd fall down those stairs someday.

I try to enter quietly in case Delphine's sleeping, but when I turn after closing the door, I don't see her. I set all my stuff down by the door and look around for a moment.

"Delphine?" I feel the panic bubbling up inside me. She could've left again, or someone could've broken in and taken her. The door was locked when I got here, though.

"Cosima," I hear her softly call me, but I don't see her. "Here," she calls again, and I see a hand pop up from behind the couch.

"Goddammit, Delphine," I turn the corner and see her lying on the floor. She smiles weakly. "I thought you'd be just fine on your own. _I ran all the way here, Cosima, I think I can walk to the bathroom_," I mimic her earlier reasoning.

"I got off the couch just fine, and I was walking alright. It wasn't until I found your pile of books that I was immobilized," she nods toward her feet and I see four or five books knocked over. I forgot I had that pile behind the couch. I've actually been looking for those.

"Sorry…" I chuckle. "Well, I'm assuming you were heading to the bathroom?" she nods, and I hold out my hand. She takes it with her good arm, and I put my hand behind her back to help her up the rest of the way so that she's in a sitting position.

"I wanted to wash my hair," she explains as we pause. Her hair is covered in all sorts of things and looks like it hasn't been washed in a while. I nod, but realize she planned on doing this by herself. Dammit, Delphine.

"Well, let's do it," I won't even let her argue this one. I help her up and she puts her arm around me while we walk to the bathroom. She sits on the floor, her back against the tub, and I grab the shower head. I use pretty cheap shampoo, so it may take a few rounds to get everything out. Once her hair is draped over the side of the tub, I turn on the water and start rinsing.

"Cosima?" she says after a minute. I hum in response, "They killed Shay".

I pause my back and forth motions with the water, letting it run in one place. I honestly didn't like Shay that much, especially toward the end of our working relationship, but hearing that she's dead stuns me. Not only dead but killed. I don't know how to respond. It was such a random statement.

"Who did?" That's about all I can come up with.

"I assume the same people who are trying to kill me," I go back to rinsing her hair. I knew that was most likely what was going on with Delphine, but I've been avoiding actually addressing it. It's too much. None of this feels real.

"I'm going to grab a towel," I set the shower head in the tub and busy myself on the other side of my bathroom. I grab a large towel and then a small one to put under her neck. When I return to her, I lift up her head without a word and position the towel. And now onto shampoo…

"Cosima?" Delphine gets my attention again. I can't bring myself to respond, though. "Are you okay?" she touches my leg – about the only thing in her reach.

"Yeah, yeah. I should be asking you that, I mean, you're being hunted…" I can hear the fear in my own voice. She doesn't say anything. I rinse the first round of shampoo out.

* * *

"Alright, all clean," I turn off the water. "And," I get up and go to the cupboard, "I think I might even have a comb…Aha," it's brand new, just from many years ago. I don't know why I bought a comb in the first place.

"Thank you for helping me," Delphine says as I sit down next to her and squeeze some of the water out of her hair.

"Of course," I reply seriously. "Anytime. Anytime you need something – hair washing to doctoring – I'm your guy," she nods with a gentle smile. I start combing through her mess of hair.

When her hair is combed through, and now mostly dry, I help her to the bed. She takes a couple pills and falls asleep within the hour. I can't imagine how tired she is. I wonder if she got much sleep on the run. I wonder where she's been. Did she stay in the city or was she all over? She was gone for a whole month – she could've gone anywhere. Gone without her phone and wallet, though. Gone without her car. I don't know how she fucking made it

* * *

**4:16 PM**

**Dr. Leechy:** _I heard you went home sick today. Would you like an additional home visit this week? I could send one of our physicians._

**8:02 PM**

**You:** _ah no man it's cool I'm just gonna sleep. It's just I don't usually get really cough-ish at work and it was kind of bad today. Scott's idea to have me go home._

**8:05 PM**

**Dr. Leechy:** _Alright, if you say so. Do let me know if you change your mind. I hope you're able to make it on Monday._

**8:08 PM**

**You:** _thanks me too_

Even though his behavior hasn't changed much, I'm growing a deep hatred for him. Every time he texts me, no matter what it is, every time I see him for a check-in, I just get this feeling of helplessness. It seems like he likes having the power over me. Before, I just went about my business and didn't know I was being observed, but now he gets to flaunt the control over me. I think that on some level he knows I know what happened to Delphine. He at least knows I'm scared.

"Ow, fuck," I yelp as my wrist comes in contact with the pot of boiling soup I'm stirring uselessly. It brings me out of my thoughts and back into the present where the liquid is about to boil over the top of the pot. "Ah, shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck…" I quickly take it off the burner and turn everything off. The noise of it all reminds me of my headache.

Delphine is still asleep somehow. She's been out for over five hours, but the last two have been full of my noisy cooking. My cooking constituting of pouring a can of soup into a pot and accidentally boiling it for thirty minutes. I put a lid on the pot and move to the area my bed occupies to make sure she's still alive.

"Delphine?" I call quietly, not really wanting to wake her up, but not wanting to be the creepy chick who stares at sleeping women. She doesn't respond, but I can at least see her breathing. When I get closer, I notice she's sweating. I'm not sure if something is wrong or if she's just hot. I pull back the heavy covers and grab a washcloth to dry her face. She doesn't even budge while I'm patting her forehead down.

I fold the cloth on the nightstand and am about to leave her be again, but I see a dark spot on the sweatpants she's wearing. It's her leg wound. I guess it has been a whole day since the gauze has been changed. I'm not sure how often she's supposed to change it, but I assume it's a good idea to do so when it's covered in blood.

I grab the plastic bag of extra supplies I bought earlier and sit to the right of her on the bed. I try to lift the pant leg up, but it just scrunches up on top of the wound. I straighten it back out and reluctantly pull down from the top. I feel like such a creep. She has on red, boy-short underwear that I didn't notice before. A lot of the left side is stained with blood – just a different shade of red. I'll have to remember to get her to change those when she wakes up. She takes a deep breath in her sleep when I start to pull the old gauze off. She doesn't wake up, though. I throw it in the bag after I dump everything on the bed, and then open up the wipes and start cleaning the area around the wound. It doesn't look too bad. The extra bleeding could've just been from when she tripped this morning.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I hear a quiet mumble. My head snaps up to see a smirking Delphine, eyes still half-lidded.

"No. I'm not," I say a bit more seriously than I intended. Her smile fades and I feel bad. "I mean, maybe a little," I correct, and then go back to cleaning. I hear a quiet chuckle.

"What are you using? It burns," she asks when my dabbing gets closer to the wound.

"Super Strength Clorox wipes. Orange scented. It'll kill any infection I'm sure," I answer without looking back up at her.

"What?" she shouts. The loudest noise she's made since she's been back. I try to restrain my laugh, but it comes out in a snort. I pause my task and give her a look.

"I'm not sure if I should feel sympathetic because you're so gullible or offended because you believe I'm that bad at being a doctor," I smile and push the wet wipes toward her.

"Why does it burn?" she picks up the small package and reads the short list of ingredients.

"I don't know. Cause you're a wuss?" I rip open a gauze packet and re-cover the wound. The package of wipes hits my leg and I grin up at the glaring patient. How could I take her seriously when she's smiling?

"You have awful bedside manners," she grumbles.

"Well," I reposition myself closer to the head of the bed so I can check her shoulder. "It could have something to do with the fact that I'm actually on the bed and not beside it," she closes her eyes and shakes her head with a smile.

"Excuses," she looks brightly at me, somehow her lazy grin still present.

"How is it that you're smiling more when you have gunshot wounds and a bounty on your head than any other time I've seen you smile?" I pull the collar of the shirt over her shoulder. The gauze looks clean. I should change it anyway while I'm here.

"I thought I'd never see you again," I see her smile is gone and she's looking away. "I…I'm just grateful…to be alive and…" she bites her lip like she's trying to keep any more words from coming out.

"I missed you, too," I smile at her, but she still doesn't look at me.

Even though her wound isn't bleeding or dirty, I still use a wipe on the surrounding area. It's an odd looking wound. It doesn't really look like a bullet wound at all. One edge is surrounded by reddened skin and the rest just looks like a gash.

"What happened here? Your chart said bullet wound?" she finally looks up and then to her shoulder.

"It was an accident kind of. I don't think the man was really proficient with his own firearm. He was more of a…hands-on kind of guy," she says oddly. I shrug my shoulders for her to explain. "He, euh, he was holding the gun and trying to drag me somewhere. His arm was across my chest and the gun went off a couple times and grazed my shoulder. There might be a burn," she tries to look at it again, but I've already taped the new gauze on.

"He shot you more than once?" I try to keep the anger out of my voice.

"I wasn't really _shot_ shot," she grins widely at me for some reason, "I was shot _at_ and it just happened to graze me". Oh, I see. I flick her good arm. She just laughs.

"And the one on your leg?" I cover her shoulder back up and throw the still-clean wipe in the bag.

"Right after. I was running away, and I think he was trying to immobilize me. He's not a very good shot," she says like it's such a normal thing to say.

"Wait…logically, that means…" I pull the top of the sweatpants down again and lift her leg slightly to look underneath. As I suspected, there's another soaked gauze on the back of her leg. It's smaller. How did I miss it?

"Cosima, you really should take me to dinner before ripping off my clothes…" her eyes are closed again, but it doesn't look like she's tired anymore. Why is she so lighthearted about this? She's making jokes while I clean her fucking bullet wounds because someone tried to shoot her because someone is trying to kill her. And I'm the fucking funny one.

"Dinner is on the stove," she looks over to the kitchen with a frightened expression. It almost makes me laugh. I think she's relieved when she sees there's no fire or impending explosion.

The wound on the back of her leg is much smaller and neater. Two stitches, both intact. There's some bruising around it, but after I clean off the excess blood, it looks pretty good. The bullet went through her inner thigh, so I imagine the healing process will be faster than if it had gone through more muscle.

"Delphine?" she opens her eyes and looks at me. "What did you mean, more hands-on?"

"Oh, just…the man who has been after me seems to be more comfortable using his physical strength rather than weapons. Maybe just because he's so awful at shooting". She rolls her eyes like incompetence in any field – even if it's the assassination field – is intolerable to her.

"Is he the guy that did that?" I point at my neck and look at the bruising on hers. It's not as obvious now. Seems to be healing quickly.

"Yes. I've only had encounters with the one man. It makes it easier to spot him rather than be afraid of everyone," she explains. It makes me so sad. I can't imagine a whole day of being paranoid of everyone, watching out for my own death. She did it every day for a month. And she came back fucking funnier.

"Ugh," I sigh and grab the bottle of pain pills from the nightstand. She gives me a questioning look. I swallow the pills before I explain, "Headache. Probably your fault," I smile charmingly at her and she returns the smile but adds an eye roll.

"Hm," she says after looking at me for a moment. She brings her hand up to my jaw and runs her thumb along my lower lip. I have no idea what she's doing, but it reminds me of all the times we've been close. We never got to talk about that morning she randomly kissed me. The day she disappeared. "Dehydrated?" she asks finally.

It takes me a moment to clear my mind, "Uh, I guess. I haven't really been consuming much at all lately," I admit without thinking. Delphine doesn't say anything for a moment. She lets her hand run over my neck and collarbones, then down my arm.

"You do feel thinner…" she comments, still looking over me.

I grab her hand and set it back on the bed before I start to enjoy her inspection too much. "You don't really have any relative data to make that comparison".

"I've…felt…you before," she awkwardly stutters.

"Months ago. What, you remember that well?" I scoff, but she continues her examination.

"Of course. All of it, every second," she answers tiredly. She finds my hand and feels my fingers. It's a bit odd.

"I don't think you've had too much experience with my hands, unfortunately," I point out. She gets a slightly frozen look on her face and drops my hand, nodding quickly. "C'mon, let's eat. Can you make it to the kitchen?" This is the first time since I moved in this studio apartment that I wish I had a dining room or even a table.

"Yes, I think so," she pushes herself up with her good arm and I help her limp her way to the kitchen. She takes a seat at one of the few chairs I keep by the counter and bravely endures the soup.

* * *

"That's pretty much all there was to the meeting," she finishes. It sounds terrifying. I can't believe she thought so quickly, too. She's usually not good under pressure.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, Delphine. Termination paperwork. Not even clever," she nods, but looks uneasy.

"There's something else, Cosima," she looks strangely at me and adjusts herself on the bed. "Dr. Leekie said something and I'm not sure if he was telling the truth or not…"

"Well, if he thought you were going to be _terminated_ within the hour, I doubt he'd feel the need to keep any secrets," I say, hoping it's comforting. It doesn't look like it was comforting.

"That's true," she pauses and thinks before continuing, "He said something about the study. I'm not sure if it's in addition to the birth defect, or if the birth defect is just a cover for it…" she's procrastinating.

"Go on…" I try to sound like I'm not super impatient with this.

"He, euh, he said that you were, euh, are a…clone?" she looks at me, gauging my reaction I'm sure.

"Yeah, I don't know about that one," I snort, but I can see Delphine is taking it seriously. "I guess I am a clone, but it was nature's fault. You can't program someone to have twins," she nods.

"The way he was talking…the little details…I mean, aside from its radicalness, there's not really any evidence against it. The subject origin page of those files, they said, 'Embryo Composition' and it was in a lab. The study is obviously illegal, they kill to keep it from the cops. Shay was killed because she was going to tell you about it. Implantation, no birth parents listed. Sarah, you two just found each other by chance because you look alike. Perception, orphan. Whatever 'self-aware' means. Everything is very–"

"I get it, I get it," I can't help but snap a little. It's all a bit much, but she has a point. "I mean, I can roll with that. Being a clone sounds cool," I smile to myself. I don't know if I believe it, but I'm willing to humor the idea.

"We'll look into it later," she rolls her eyes. "I'm tired of talking about my life – what have you been doing for the past month?"

"Ah, work," I frown at how boring my life is (aside from being a clone). "I agreed to be a self-reporting subject for Leekie, so I see him once a week to tell him how I'm feeling physically. He said he's working on treatment and–"

"He's not," Delphine interrupts. "That's another thing he said in our meeting. Whatever he's telling you about that is a lie, Cosima," she grabs my wrist like it's imperative I listen to her.

"Yeah, I guess that doesn't surprise me," she nods and lets go of me. I miss the contact already. I feel stupid for missing the contact already. "Anyways, I've been running some lab tests to see if I can get an idea of what's wrong with me, but I've come up with nothing. Aside from that, I haven't been very busy. I went to your apartment every day after work to water your cactus, by the way. You're welcome," I say with a sarcastic attitude.

"Cactus? I don't have a cactus…" she looks worried which is a little funny. Like Leekie planted a cactus bomb in her living room.

"Oh, I bought you a cactus by the way," I explain.

"You bought a cactus just so you could go to my place and water it? I don't think they need to be watered every day…" she comments, turning her head to look at me. We're laying parallel, half an arm's length apart. I grin at the ceiling.

"And I don't think you're a botanist, so shut up, Delphine," I can see her smile out of the corner of my eye. She joins me in ceiling-staring.

I don't even know how long we're just lying in silence, but after a while I feel a tickle on the back of my hand. I'm about to look down, but as the tickle progresses, I can identify it as Delphine's hand. I freeze up and try not to move a muscle. I don't want to involuntarily grab her hand.

I swallow as I feel her fingers wander to the palm of my hand, slowly moving up, and eventually interlacing with mine. Neither of us look away from the ceiling, but we both grasp on to the other's hand. I close my eyes and try to stay calm because as much as I love this moment, I fucking hate it, too. As much as I love every moment like this, I fucking hate it. I hate it so much because it always ends with Delphine freaking out like it disgusted her. Even that morning she disappeared, she initiated everything, she kissed me, but she still looked terrified when it was over. I've been thinking about that for a while, actually. I so badly want to believe things changed, but I honestly don't think they did. It was just another moment of weakness for her. Another future regret.

I reluctantly open my eyes. Everything in my body wants to just stay put, but I can't do that to my mind. "So," I sit up and slip my hand out of hers just as she turns to look at me. I slide out of the bed and wander around the living room. "We should probably come up with a plan, right? I mean, you can't hide in my apartment for the rest of your life".

I feel awful when I see the blank expression on her face and her empty hand moving around nervously. "Ehm, about that, Cosima," she tries to sit up, but just about slips off the bed. I run around to her side of the bed and help her so she's sitting on the edge. "Merci," I nod and stay standing in front of her while she continues. "I, euh, I need to leave soon. I can't stay here and just put you in danger. I'll be back, though. Hopefully, with more information," she looks up at me and I'm baffled by her answer.

I lean in closely to look at her eyes, see if she's high. "Are you fucking nuts? That's not going to happen," I shake my head at her. She just looks at me with an odd expression.

"I have to, I have to leave you here," she barely finishes her sentence before she reaches my neck with her good arm and pulls me to her lips. In my own moment of weakness, I give in and kiss her back. She must be high. Maybe she got ahold of my stash. Maybe she took too many… Ibuprofen? I try to gently pull away, but her hand just holds me closer. I so badly want to indulge, to go as far as she takes this and deal with the heartbreak later. I just want this to be real, to not be an impulse, to not be desperation. It is, though. It always is. Since the moment our relationship started to change from strictly professional to whatever the fuck it is now, it has always just been an impulse for her. I'm an impulse, not something she can admit she wants, just something she can't resist when it's close enough.

I grab the hand that's holding my neck and push her back onto the bed with it. I stay hovering above her for a moment while we catch our breath. Just to avoid awkwardness, I treat this exactly like I did the hand-holding situation and pretend it didn't just happen. "Delphine, you are the stupidest fucking person I know if you think I'm letting you just leave," I try to move away, but the overly tempting position I've put us in is distracting me. Her lips are parted while she continues to breathe heavily. She stares at my lips, occasionally glancing up to my eyes like she's begging me to give in.

Finally, I convince myself to let go of her hand that I pinned above her head and get myself to a standing position. She grabs my hand, though before I can move away. "Cosima…" she doesn't say anything else, just looks at me with those eyes and that expression. I can't handle it, I have to look away.

"Wherever you're going, I'm coming with you. No question," I turn and walk out of her grasp. It kills me, but I know it would be worse if I stay. At least this way she's sad when I leave instead of half grateful and half terrified.

She misses me, I get that, but as a friend. As someone who cares for her. I just don't think she understands how to maneuver our relationship in the way she wants. I don't want her to just give me things she thinks I want so she'll feel better. And if we are going to be spending a lot of time together in the near future, I'd rather not complicate it.

That's not true. I really really really want to complicate it. But it would kill me before this bloody cough does.


	8. Escape

"_And…allergies?"_

"_Non," I answer groggily. _

"_Anything else we should know before prepping you?" I shake my head. The nurse seems impatient with me. He finishes up my vitals and clicks a few times on his computer. I hear his watch beeping as the hour brings us from Monday to Tuesday. _

_I think they planned on just numbing my leg while they stitched up the holes, but I pass out before they even put the curtain up._

I can't believe it's Wednesday already. We leave this evening. I know I'm the one who told Cosima to go into work, but I'm just getting antsy being here by myself. I already cleaned all of her apartment yesterday and I spent most of today packing as much as I could. Since we're not sure where we're going, I don't know what to pack. I obviously don't have anything, but Cosima has a large variety of clothing. She told me to throw whatever I want into a bag. I have to settle for mostly sweatpants and oversized T-shirts.

It's almost five-thirty when I hear the key being shoved in her front door. "Hello?" she calls. She's greeted me like this the last few days when she enters her apartment. I think she's still scared I won't be here. I peek out from behind the half-wall her bed hides behind. Her typical relieved smile brightens her face.

"Where should I go?" I ask, though it's a bit late to be asking. The plan is to keep her home visit appointment with Leekie tonight so that we have a whole week before he knows she's gone (ideally).

"There's not a whole lot of places to hide in my apartment," she points out. Her studio apartment is small and very open aside from the bathroom. "But I don't know that I'd feel comfortable with you hiding somewhere else…"

"I could just sit on a different floor?" I suggest, trying to remember how many floors this building has.

"No, I don't want you to be alone," she bites her lip. I know she got the habit from me, but it still drives me a little crazy whenever she does it. "Oh, I have a bad idea," she prefaces.

"I don't think bad ideas are the ones we're going for, Cosima," she sets her bag down by the door and comes to sit next to me on the bed.

"There is one other person who knows about you being here…" I panic for a moment. Who did she tell, and why the hell did she tell someone? "My neighbor was the one who alerted me to your presence at my door last week. If he's home, maybe you could chill with him for a bit?" she doesn't look very thrilled with her own idea.

"Is he nice?" I try to prompt her to tell me what her uneasiness is with him.

"Nice isn't really the word I'd use…maybe high? Stupid? Annoying? All the worst parts about me, except amplified and less cute?" I giggle at her description.

"It's fine with me," I just want to make this as painless as possible for her. I know I'm not forcing her to go with me, but I really am glad she is. She gets up and leaves her apartment to see if he's home. I can hear them talking for a moment before Cosima returns. His nasal voice carries unfortunately.

"Okay, it's settled. You hang out with Tyler for a bit. I'd say go over there around six". I look at the alarm clock and see it's about a quarter to six. Cosima grabs the bag that I've been stuffing clothes in and throws it under her bed. She stops at the few trash cans she has around the area and picks out the empty gauze and bandage packages. Yesterday, I switched out the gauze on my shoulder for a large bandage. Much less bulky.

She spends some time looking over the apartment for any signs I was here. Ironically, the fact that her apartment is clean is a red flag. I laugh at her while she un-makes her bed, grabs clothes from her drawers and throws them on the floor, and places different food items on her counter and coffee table.

"It's six," I reluctantly point out. I don't want to be here when Leekie shows up, but I haven't left Cosima's apartment since last Thursday when I showed up. It feels weird.

"It'll be fine, Delphine. And I'll come get you as soon as it's clear. Tyler is a douche, but he's harmless. You're welcome to be a bitch to him," she winks and squeezes my hand. I want it to be comforting, but I just feel irritation with the fact that she has to let go eventually.

Cosima walks me to Tyler's door and waits till he's closed it behind me to leave. His apartment smells awful. It's a mixture of food, beer, marijuana, and rotten humidity.

"So, Dreads didn't tell me you were hot," Tyler comments in a slow nasal voice that's even worse up-close. I can already see why Cosima dislikes him.

"I thought you were the one who told her I was…at her door…" I'm sure he just thought I was drunk.

"Yeah, but you were face down, babe," I want to vomit at his words. I'm used to people coming onto me, but it's usually men from the office with a little more tact. "You can sit, you know…" he pats the couch next to him. I reluctantly make my way over, but only because standing is becoming painful.

"So, Tyler, what do you do for a living?" I try to make polite conversation and steer away from courting.

"I work at the gas station at the end of the block. I do some side stuff to, in case you want some relaxation time, you know what I mean?" he wiggles his eyebrows and I have to look away.

"That's nice. Ehm, how long have you lived here?"

"I don't know, man. I think eight or nine years. I was here before Dreads. Old German guy lived there before her. I like her better, even though she's probably a spy," he giggles and it's probably the most awful sound I've ever heard.

"You think Cosima is a spy?"

"Oh yeah. Be careful with her. Like a month after she moved in, a guy came to ask me questions about her. But she's not real talkative, you know, and so they just left all pissed. I told her about it, and she pretended like she thought I was just seeing things".

"Ah, right. Well, yes, I'll be careful, then," I can't imagine what it was like for Cosima to have her new odd neighbor come over to tell her something like that. Maybe more entertaining than anything.

"Anyways," Tyler interrupts my thoughts by putting his hand on my knee and ramming his scruffy face under my jaw to lap at my neck. I immediately push him off as hard as I can, but my shoulder is still sore. "Hey, what the fuck?"

"Can I use your restroom?" I wipe his drool off my neck.

"Oh. Yeah, sugar. Right back there," he points to the back of his apartment. It's the same layout as Cosima's, just flipped. I make my way back and see him smiling at me - why is he smiling? He must think I'm 'freshening up'. I lock the door behind me and sit on the side of the bathtub.

"_Gallbladder," the older woman says without prompt. _

"_Ah," I nod awkwardly. "I've known several people who had to get theirs removed. How are you feeling?"_

_She just nods and smiles at me. "You have an accent," I nod again. "Russia?"_

_That's the first time anyone has guessed Russian. "Euh, non. France," she nods and smiles again._

"_There's something wrong with your leg?" she points at my freshly dressed thigh. _

"_Someone shot it," I say bluntly, just to see if she does something besides nodding and smiling. _

_She nods and smiles. "My husband tried to shoot me once. He is Russian," she comments. One would think that, if her husband is Russian, she'd be able to more accurately identify the accent. _

"_That sounds frightening…"_

"_And the person who's shooting you, are they going to shoot you again?" _

"_Yes, I believe so. They are trying to kill me," she doesn't look the least bit surprised. _

"_What did you do?"_

"_I know a big secret and they don't want me to tell anyone," I'm actually feeling relieved to be talking about this with someone. _

"_Will they find you here?"_

"_I hope not, but they probably will. Do you know what hospital we're in?" she nods her head at the door. Through the window, we can see the emblem on the nurses' station. We're in the hospital nearest to Cosima's apartment. I wish I could see her. I'm so close. _

"_Will they ever stop trying to kill you?" she asks with the same vacant smile. _

"_Not until I tell the police the secret and they all go to jail," I sigh at the distant possibility that I'll live to see that day. _

"_You have your chance then. Look," she nods out the window again and we see a police officer walking up to a nurse, his back to us. _

"_Putain," I spit out when I see his ponytail, arm sling, and heavy limp. "That's not a police officer," I whisper and start pulling out the tubes that are pumping drugs into me. _

"_Ah, this is the man who shot you?" she looks him over. He's waiting impatiently while the nurse searches her computer. _

"_That's the one," I throw the thin blanket off of me and look around for somewhere to escape. _

"_He's also injured…" she gives me a knowing look._

"_Yes, well, I may have shot him back," she nods and smiles. _

"_Stay behind that chair," she points to the armchair by the window meant for guests. "I will scare him off". _

_I don't want to do as she says, but I don't have enough time to go anywhere else. I jump out of the bed and barely tuck my legs behind the chair when the door clicks open. The muffled beeping and nurse chat are amplified for a moment before the door closes again. _

"_Aren't you a handsome young man? Are you here for me?" I hear my roommate ask in a high-pitched voice. _

"_I'm here for the blonde, where is she?" His gruff voice still gives me chills. _

"_Oh, are you her husband? How sweet. And an officer of the law, too? What a lucky girl. You just missed her, sir. Another young man took her away for a shower," she rambles on. "Why don't you stay in here and wait? Come sit by me, gorgeous," I am confused and nervous. Why is she encouraging him to stay? Is she in on this? Am I safe nowhere?_

"_Oh, no ma'am. I, um, I have to…" he struggles to find an excuse. I'm starting to understand her tactic._

"_Come on now, wait in here so she can see your charming face as soon as she comes back down the hall. If you wait in the waiting room, she won't be able to see you at all," I'm praying this works._

"_Ah, well that's just it. I want to surprise her. I'll wait in the waiting room. Don't tell her I was here," I can hear he's trying to play along, but he's doing a poor job. _

"_A surprise? How thoughtful. Alright, I won't say a word. You come back in about twenty minutes or so and I'll make sure to leave the room so you two can have some privacy," she is really good at this. _

"_That'd be perfect, thank you ma'am," the cockiness in his voice is evident. He thinks he's got me this time._

"_You could thank me with a kiss?" she carries on and I have to hold back a laugh. _

"_Uh, no. No, I don't think she'd like that," she hums in response to his flimsy excuse and I hear the door opening and closing again. _

"_All is clear, France. You don't have much time," I peek out from behind the chair just in time to see the man rounding the last corner of the hall out the window. Sitting in the chair, I try to think. I grab the plastic bag of clothes I came in with and start redressing. _

"_What floor are we on?" I'm starting to feel a burning sensation in my leg. The drugs are wearing off fast. _

"_Oh, no, darling. You can't walk out of here like that," I turn to see the woman staring at my half-dressed outfit. She has a point. I'm covered in dried blood. _

"_I don't have anything else. It'll have to do," I glance out the window and see that we're on the second floor. There's a garden for patients to walk through just below out window. It's empty at the moment. I don't see any stairs._

"_Take my clothes. My husband will bring me more," I hesitate, but nod and start changing again. _

"_Thank you for your help. You are very good actor," I say as I slide her baggy sweatpants on. "I wouldn't have known how to repel someone so cleverly," I hope I don't offend her._

"_Sometimes, the easiest way to make someone run away is by wanting them to stay," I look up at the smiling woman, a thoughtful sadness in her eyes. I don't like that I see parallels between that situation and mine and Cosima's relationship. The more she showed interest, the more scared I got, the more I rejected her._

"_Maybe there's a way out the front," I look out the window and don't see much. It's not busy, so I would be noticed immediately. _

"_To get to the elevators you have to walk through the waiting room. I don't think you can do that. All the other halls are visible from outside this room. Can you hide in a bathroom?"_

"_No, I'd have to ask a nurse to unlock it and then they'd wonder why I couldn't use the one in here and wonder why I stole your clothes," I smile at her for a moment. "The moment he saw the empty bed, he'd just go back to the waiting room anyways," I duck as a nurse walks by the window. There's a sharp pain in my thigh and now my shoulder is starting to feel sore. My whole body feels sore. _

"_Hide by the nurses' station and as soon as he passes you to come check the room, run to the waiting room. I can try to keep him in here for as long as possible?" Although I can sense some concern in her voice, what I detect most is excitement. I think about it while I retrieve and fold up my basic chart, stuffing it in the small pocket on the front of her shirt._

"_Okay. Thank you again. You're saving my life," as it only seems necessary for our goodbye, she nods and smiles once more before I slowly open the door and slip out. _

_There are two nurses in the nurses' station and two roaming the halls together with a cart of medications. I wish I had enough time to wait for mine. I start walking down the hall opposite the two nurses since I see the nurses' station is too noticeable to hide behind. A last-minute change of plans is the last thing I want, but the plan was last-minute anyway. Every room is occupied. Near the end of the hall, there are two doors next to each other – a large bathroom and a utility or storage room. I try the bathroom door but it's locked. I doubt a storage room would be more accessible than the bathroom. I'm about to try when I see a large figure walking toward the room that I was in. The man peeks in the window. _

_I'm frozen. I can't make it to the elevators now, I'd have to sprint right past him. We are technically standing in the same hall, I'm just at the very end, and he's in the center, now turning in my direction to go back to the waiting room. _

_My prayers are answered when he starts walking back to the waiting room, evidently not seeing me standing in the middle of the hall. However, those same prayers are rendered useless as a man slams against the utility room door on his way out, carrying a toolbox. _

"_Oh, excuse me miss," he says loudly. I see the ponytail man glance my way and we make eye contact. His eyes widen briefly before he comes after me. I catch the storage room door in time and rush to lock myself in. _

_A small radio is playing on a stack of boxes and there is a large hole drilled into the cement floor. It looks like pipe work maybe. There is a small window on the other side of the dusty hole, and it's pushed open. I hop over the opening, regretting it immediately as I land and feel a jolting pain take over my leg. My grunt is drowned out by the sound of banging on the door. I look out the window and see the garden again, but this time there is a large stone fountain beneath me, sculpted to look like a natural mountain waterfall._

_The man who I presume was working on the pipes left two more toolboxes in the room. I search through them, looking for anything to help me down – a rope, parachute, mountain climbing gear. My personal assassin has no problem attacking in public. He choked me in the back of a grocery store not too long ago. I don't think he'd have a problem finishing me off here._

_Aside from a long bundle of thin metal wire, all I find are a few bungee cords. They're not very long either. The banging gets louder and I can hear talking on the other side of the door. I hook the cords together and tie one end around a pipe sticking out of the floor. I'm not sure if me being shoe-less is an advantage or hindrance at this point._

_I'm carefully climbing out of the window, terrified of the height, until I hear keys jingling. I close my eyes for no good reason and let myself fall, clinging onto the cord for dear life. There's at least ten feet between my dangling legs and the top of the stone fountain. Unfortunately, no windows between either. _

_Out of nowhere, I feel my makeshift rope waver a bit and then drop me down another foot. The creaking I hear makes me think the pipe isn't as strong as it seemed. Though, I am closer to the stone now. Not much, but I feel a bit better. I know I have to jump, let myself fall, but the inevitable pain it will cause is making me hesitate, even with a man who's trying to kill me and soon to be on the other end of my rope. _

_I hear the door to the utility room slam open. I have no more time, it's obvious where I am, he won't have to search for a second. I close my eyes again and slide as far down the cord as possible, bringing me about six or seven feet from the rocks. _

"_Hey!" I hear my assassin's voice yell from above me. It's all I need to let go. I'm weightless for one second before the rough stone fountain is below my feet. I don't even have time to think about the intense jolts of pain taking over my body because the slippery surface causes me to slide down the side. I didn't think about the fact the stone would be wet. As I slide, I feel the bottom half of the sweatpants I borrowed hiking up and the stone scraping against my shins. I can't even differentiate the pains of the injuries because my legs just feel like they're being stabbed continuously with flaming knives. _

_I see the bottom of the fountain coming closer, a large pool of dirty water awaiting. I turn to attempt a glance up at the window, but the motion alters my destination and I feel myself falling into the shrubbery planted alongside the fountain. The branches scratch up every other visible part of my body that was otherwise uninjured. I hit the ground with a thud that knocks the wind out of me. It takes a moment before I can even open my eyes again. I know I need to move. My body is telling me to stay put, but I need to get out of here. _

_I get up with an involuntary cry and make my way around the back of the fountain slowly, picking leaves and sticks out of my hair and clothes. I wish I was in an action movie and I could just find a conveniently placed motorcycle and speed away. _

_I find myself in the large parking garage and stay bent over as I scurry between cars, eventually making my way into an alley. The buildings are unfamiliar. I don't know where to go from here and it's starting to get dark. I peek out of the alley and search the main street for my ponytailed friend. There are very few cars. A sensation takes over my head and stomach and I turn just in time to throw up by the side of the building I'm leaning against. It leaves me lightheaded and nauseous. _

_I sit down and catch my breath. My entire body is trembling, my legs violently shaking. I peek out into the road again. The streetlights have come on. The chill of the evening feels good. I stare longingly at Cosima's apartment building, hidden behind several other buildings, only the very top exposed. I miss her so much. Out of everything I wish I could have right now – food, water, a safe shelter, a healthy body – I want her company the most. _

_I sit for another ten minutes at least, tucked next to a city dumpster. It doesn't take me long to give in and make the decision to go to her. Even if they follow me there and kill me, I'll at least get to see her again. _

_I get up but have to brace myself against the brick wall as I throw up again. I close my eyes and lay my head against the wall. I have to get to Cosima's fast, or I won't make it at all. I stumble to the end of the alley but quickly slam myself back against the building when I see the familiar black motorcycle and blond ponytailed motorist speed by. Once again, I throw up on the ground, this time out of fear. He didn't seem to see me, but I wait another five minutes anyways before venturing out into the streets. I try to look as normal as possible, but fortunately, I just look raggedy and homeless. I blunder past buildings and use the walls to keep me upright most of the way. I'm going to pass out soon, I can feel it, but I just need to get to Cosima. Even just to hear her voice one last time before I die. _

"Delphine? You okay?" I hear Cosima calling from outside the bathroom door. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. I wonder if I fell asleep. I reach my arm to the door to unlock it and try to get up from the bathtub.

"Hey, I'm fine," I say as Cosima rushes in and kneels in front of me. I try to get up, but I just feel worn out.

"Here," Cosima puts her arm underneath mine and helps me stand.

"Hey, I'm sorry, dude. I just, like, thought you wanted to come over and–" Tyler's awful voice makes its way to my ears.

"Thank you for letting me stay here Tyler, it was very kind," I interrupt and let Cosima help me back to her apartment.

"Tyler said you were in there the whole time. What happened?" I sit on the couch as she locks the door.

"Oh, nothing. He was just hoping for a more physical interaction and I didn't know what to do. I think I fell asleep in there, honestly. What time is it? Did Leekie already come?" I look around the apartment as though I could find something out of place to answer my question.

"Yeah, he came a few minutes before seven. It's seven forty-five now," I look at her in disbelief. I was sitting in a bathroom for an hour and a half?

"How did it go?" Cosima moves around the apartment, grabbing the bag I packed earlier.

"Fine. I tried to make it out like I was getting worse and didn't want to go into work. We'll see if that buys us any more time," I nod. She grabs a plastic bag and throws some snack food into it. "Also, I think I know where we should go," she sets both bags by the door.

"Where?"

"Well, if we want to keep looking into this so we can take Leekie and his whole fucking operation down, we should talk to Sarah. Maybe Siobhan knows something. Anything would help. What do you think?"

"I don't have a better plan. They live in Canada, though, right? How are we supposed to get there?" Cosima sits next to me on the couch.

"I took the liberty of possessing your car, so I was assuming we'd just take that. It's a long drive to Toronto, but an even longer walk," she smiles and winks at me. I missed that so much.

"I'm glad I came to you," I hear myself say out of nowhere.

"Me too," she gives me one of her less frequent warm smiles. No sarcasm, playfulness, silliness. Just sweetness. "So, one last problem we need to figure out before we go".

"What?"

"Who are we going to get to take care of your cactus?" she smiles, playful this time. I shove her softly and head to the door. She turns off all of the lights, grabs the two bags, and locks the door behind us. We take the back door to the parking lot that I was never aware of.

I give her a funny look when she opens the back door of my car for me. "You can't just sit in the front with your pretty face on display. If anyone is following me, it needs to look like I'm driving alone…" I nod and slide in. There's already a blanket and pillow in the back. "Lay down, rest while we drive, okay?" I nod again and cover myself with the blanket. I'm only awake long enough to hear the car starting and the engine gently rumbling me into a much-needed slumber.

_It's extremely risky, but I need money if I want to get anywhere. I cautiously step into the building that opened just thirty minutes ago and make my way to the counter. _

"_Good morning, I'd like to make a withdrawal," I whisper without meaning to. The young man asks me all of the relevant questions, thankfully accepting my work ID badge as identification. _

"_Would you like a receipt?" I shake my head and take the stack of cash. _

_I need to find a shady motel to hole up in. Spending last night sitting in an all-hours restaurant didn't provide much rest. Although, it was much better than the first two nights in a shelter. Perhaps I was just there at a bad time, but there was an awful lot of yelling among the other shelter-goers. _

_Being car-less has been eye-opening. I was frustrated with the buses when I first started this journey, but now, three days into it, I'm feeling quite grateful for them. I still won't get far on what little cash I had stuffed in my pockets at the time. I realize that Cosima travels like this every day. My life is so easy, really. At least, it was. _

_I find a motel, but it's dangerously close to my own apartment. It's the only one in walking distance that doesn't ask for ID and accepts cash up front. Although, Leekie wouldn't expect me to hide out so close to my own residence. Maybe it will be an advantage. _

_It's only noon, but I'm exhausted, so I lock the door, close the blinds, and fall into the bed. Sleep comes quickly and heavily. I don't even remember dreaming when I wake up around seven. It's already gotten dark out – not quite night yet, but the streetlights are on. I take two fifty dollar bills out of my stash and store the rest in the nightstand. I plan on going out to find some cheap clothes to replace the very dirty business outfit that I've been wearing for three days straight. _

_I start walking, keeping close to the buildings and trying to stay in areas with security cameras. I see my apartment building and think about going up. It definitely would be unexpected, but I still think they'd have someone there just in case. _

_I'm about to continue walking when I see a familiar face across the street. Smoking a cigarette on the stone stoop of my apartment building is a frowning Cosima. She's sitting crisscrossed on the large bottom step, an odd man sitting on the sidewalk just a couple feet away, singing wildly. I would say he's homeless, but my neighborhood doesn't attract that crowd usually. I look back to Cosima and see she's examining the box of cigarettes – the brand I smoke. _

_When I inspect her closer, I see an expression I don't recognize at all. At least not on the face of Cosima. She looks sad, but also angry. I have to stop myself from running to her. It's only been a couple days, but I miss her desperately. We saw each other almost every single day. We even spent a lot of weekends together. She's my only…friend? I don't know what she is to me. I wish that was my biggest issue to solve, though, rather than my impending termination. _

_Cosima exhales heavily and the large cloud of smoke veils her face for a moment. She looks at the man sitting just a couple feet away from her and says something. He nods and she throws him the box of cigarettes and her lighter before getting up and walking away. My legs automatically start following her, my thoughts vacating my mind to prevent any obstruction of my body's intent. _

_I'm about to cross the street to the side Cosima's walking on when I feel my arm being grasped. I look behind me and see a police officer. He has a small ponytail underneath his baseball cap. His attire is off somehow. Aside from the generic police department jacket, all he's wearing are loose jeans and a black t-shirt - no uniform._

"_Hello, dear. I'd like to talk with you in private if you don't mind," he smiles and starts pulling my arm along with him while he walks. _

"_Euh, about what?" I stumble trying to keep up with him. This isn't a real officer. I don't know who he is, but he's sketchy._

"_It seems you've forgotten to sign off on some pretty important paperwork. I've been sent to finish that up. Right this way Del–"_

"_Is there a problem here?" I almost fall over as I run into the man pulling me. We've stopped in front of an officer – a real police officer. I see the man with the ponytail stutter and quickly let go of my arm. _

"_No, sir. I was just escorting my friend back to her place. Streets can be dangerous at this time of night," I watch as he tries to cover up the gun I'm just now spotting, stuffed in the waist of his pants. _

"_Right. Well, how about I take it from here?" The man with the ponytail gives the officer a hint of a glare before smiling and walking away. He looks back at me and grins an evil grin. _

"_Thank you, officer," I try to keep my hands from shaking. _

"_Of course, miss. That is what comes with your kind of work, though. If you don't find something better to do with your life, you'll end up dead," he looks at me like he's scolding a child. "Wouldn't be the first time I'd see it"._

"_My kind of work?" I hope he's not implying what I think he's implying. _

"_The outfit, the cash sticking out of your bra, it's not hard to put together," he at least looks sympathetic. _

"_Oh, no. No, I don't–"_

"_Hey, I wasn't called down here to bust you, alright? You should just go home. Can you get there alright?" I give up on convincing him I'm not a prostitute. _

"_Yes, thank you. I'm just at that motel there," I point at the worn sign two blocks down. _

"_Right…" I realize that just makes me look more like a prostitute. He nods but does leave me be. I watch him approach my apartment and the singing man with a new box of cigarettes. I could use a cigarette._

"Ah, fuck," I hear briefly before the car comes to a halt and the driver's door opens and shuts again. I crack my eyes open but don't see much. It's completely black outside other than the headlights shining on an empty interstate. I sit up, observing the various pains my body notifies me of. Peeking out the windows, I can't see Cosima anywhere. It takes more effort than necessary for me to get the door open, but the cold night air is welcome to my sore body.

"Cosima?" Over the running engine and whistling breeze, I hear a familiar sound coming from the front of the car. "Hey, are you alright?" I sit down next to her. She's comfortably curled up between the headlights, coughing violently.

"Yeah," she breathes out, her cough subsiding a bit. "I just couldn't take your obnoxious snoring anymore, so I came out here to donate a pint of blood to Illinois' highway," she catches her breath and lets her head fall back against the front of the car.

"Very funny," she smiles at me. "So, we're in Illinois?"

"Yep, just passed Rockford. Got some gas," Cosima wipes some blood off her lips and gets up.

"How about I drive for a while?"

"Oh, yeah. It's not like your leg is injured and need your leg to drive…" she scoffs, and I glare at her.

"I don't think the injury on my left thigh will affect the function of my right foot, Cosima," I glare even harder at her. She sighs, rolls her eyes, and tosses me the keys.

Cosima falls asleep in the passenger seat only ten minutes into me driving. I painfully reach to the back and grab the blanket, adjusting it on her with my free hand. I fold her glasses and set them in the cup holder.

It's past two in the morning when I look at the clock. That means we still have eight or nine hours to go. After everything Cosima has done for me, I want to at least let her sleep and drive the rest of the way there myself but keeping my body stiff in one position is already making me intolerably sore.

Another two hours go by and I have to pull over to stretch my legs. We're close to the Michigan border, so we'll get to Toronto around noon if we keep driving.

"Hey, we might need to stop for a car phone charger. My battery is dead, and I still haven't warned Sarah we're coming…" Cosima says when I get back in the car. I'm surprised she's awake. She only slept for a couple hours.

"Maybe we shouldn't. It's possible your phone is being monitored to make sure you don't come in contact with me. What if they're tracking us?" I start to panic. Cosima may not take this too seriously, but I'm the one being hunted. If they find her, she may be in trouble, but I will be dead.

"You're right," I almost don't believe she's agreeing right away. "Do you think I should toss it?"

"I'm not sure. Just keep it off for now. I don't know if that will do any good, but it's something," she nods, and we start driving again. She stays awake this time. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Starting to get a little nervous. I know Siobhan won't be mad if we just show up, but…I don't know. Just worried because we don't know what's going to happen," she opens up a little. I can tell by the shake of her voice that she's more concerned than she's letting on.

"Wait, Cosima. Do you think she would tell Leekie where we are? Is she a monitor?"

"The last time we checked, Sarah's parole officer was her monitor, but she's done with that by now. She's either monitor-less or she has a new one that wouldn't be on the – holy shit, wait," Cosima shouts and reaches around the back of the front seats, pulling something from the seat pocket. "I totally fucking forgot these were here," she shows me a familiar set of files. I figured she would've moved the funding documents somewhere safe, but I guess not.

"Well, that's convenient," Cosima flips to the page of transactions under Sarah's ID.

"Oh, wait. It looks like she was a monitor a long time ago. It says SSADLER," she reads through silently for a moment. "This was, like, ten years ago, though. After that, there's nothing for a couple years. These two are pretty short-lived. Probably boyfriends. And…yeah, the last thing on here is her parole officer. So, I don't think Siobhan has been in contact for a while," I nod and try to focus on driving.

* * *

It's almost one in the afternoon when Cosima and I are knocking on the front door of her sister's house. I can tell that she's even more nervous now, she's been silent for a long time, looking down at her feet.

"Cosima, what a surprise," Siobhan answers the door. Cosima's body is still tense, but she smiles through it.

"Yeah, I was – we were actually hoping you could help us out, S. Is Sarah here?" Siobhan ushers us inside.

"No, Sarah left not too long ago with her new boyfriend. She'll be back later. He wants to meet everyone," the hesitation is obvious in her voice.

"Oh?" Cosima can tell, too. "What do you think of him?"

"I haven't met him in person yet. I've only seen pictures with Sarah. He's not bad looking. He works in the city, I'm not sure where, but he seems successful. Don't repeat this, but he's not really Sarah's type," Siobhan looks out the window briefly before sitting on the armchair she occupied last time we were here.

"What's his name?" Cosima and I take the couch again.

"Paul Dierden. He seems like a good guy. The first who actually brought up meeting Kira…" she trails off with a thoughtful expression.

"And…" Cosima starts nervously, "…you don't like that idea because he might just be another monitor?"

Siobhan's soft features freeze up for a moment. She doesn't say anything, just crosses her arms over her chest and stares at both of us.

"Cosima and I just recently discovered…everything. I was asked to be her monitor, though it was only for a month or two," I try to prompt a more _out loud_ kind of conversation.

"And why do you think I know what you're talking about?"

"Because we know you were Sarah's monitor a while ago," Cosima almost sounds angry.

Siobhan sighs and relaxes a bit. "You know, I remember a very important part of the job was not disclosing it," she looks at me with an expression I can't identify.

"Yes, that's still true. And that's why I had to go on the run," I can tell what her expression means now. It's something along the lines of 'you got what you deserved'. I can't believe she seems to be taking Leekie's side. "They've been trying to kill me for over a month now".

"And you decided to come here? Listen ladies, I have sympathy for you, I do, but Kira is the most important thing to me. You don't understand the situation we have," she says in a very 'mom' voice.

"We're trying to gather evidence. Enough to take to the police. We wanted to know if you could tell us anything," Cosima quickly defends. I know she had hoped we could stay with them, but it would be safer not to. "This thing that's going on is completely illegal. I'm already sick and it sounds like that's where everyone else in the study-experiment-thing is headed. Delphine even heard some things that might mean this is darker than it seems".

Siobhan nods. "I don't doubt that it's much darker than it seems. Why do you think I insist Sarah and Kira stay here?"

I look at Cosima. This is obviously news to her. From the little I know about Sarah, she seems like the type to take advantage of the generosity her foster mother has afforded her. I wouldn't have predicted Siobhan was in charge of that decision.

"If we get to the bottom of this, you won't have to worry about it anymore," Cosima reasons in a soft voice.

The mother sighs and looks at her twisting fingers. "You mean well, I understand. But, Cosima, you're going to get the both of you killed if you keep on this," Cosima stays silent aside from a heavy exhale. Siobhan waits a minute, observing my couch-mate, before speaking again. "You're not going to stop, are you?"

"We can't, S. They won't stop trying to kill her. We can't just do nothing, it's–"

"Cosima," I whisper and lay my hand on hers. She's getting too worked up, and it will only end in a bloody coughing fit.

"Sorry, I just–"

"Cosima!" she's interrupted again. This time by a little girl bounding down the stairs.

"Hey, Monkey. I didn't know you were here," the child jumps on Cosima's lap and gives her a hug.

"You brought your girlfriend again. And I didn't even have to go get her from the car this time," she rests her head on Cosima's shoulder to smile at me.

"Kira, why don't you go play outside with Auntie Cosima?" We all turn to look at Siobhan. Kira is more than willing, dragging Cosima through the living room and out the back door. Cosima looks back at me, nervous.

"Cosima really seems to love Kira. I've heard them talk on her computer several times," I say, trying to distract the woman from staring at me.

"Yes, they've always gotten along pretty well. Cosima is a little more energetic than Sarah, and a tad more kid-friendly," Siobhan answers, slowly making her way over to the couch and sitting next to me. I don't dare speak. "You know why I don't trust you, right?"

"I, ehm…because you don't know me?" I feel so much like someone who's just been pulled over for speeding and asked how fast they thought they were going.

"Something like that. I'm not very close with Cosima, I haven't known her for very long, but I'm still just as protective of her. You may have told Cosima about everything, but you still agreed to be a monitor. And who's to say she's not in more danger now that she knows?"

"Yes, well, we already had a complicated relationship and I thought it would be a good idea to add more trouble," I say what I think Cosima would have said in the situation. Siobhan doesn't laugh, I wasn't expecting her to, but she seems to lighten up.

"So, what do you want to know?" she looks straight ahead, keeping an eye on Kira out the window, who is riding on Cosima's shoulders.

"Anything, really. We don't know exactly what's going on and any direction would be helpful," I answer nervously.

She sighs with a long pause before speaking again. "I didn't have Sarah very long before they came knocking on my door. Three men – one of them you work for".

"Dr. Leekie?" I ask. She nods. I didn't expect Leekie to make so many house calls.

"They must have known I was in debt. Moving all the way here with two kids wasn't cheap. They offered me enough money to cover my debts. At the time, I thought I had no choice but to accept. They were more…involved back then. Sarah and Felix must have thought I was just bringing boyfriends home, I don't know," she shakes her head. I can't imagine how hard it was. "Leekie, he didn't come over often, but when he did, he couldn't help but talk. That man has such an ego and he thinks everyone else around him is ignorant. He told me how he cared for all the girls but couldn't see them as anything but guinea pigs. He said it like it somehow made him superior to them. He loves dancing on the edge of secrecy. It makes him feel smarter, but he's just a stupid, egotistical asshole".

The anger I hear in her voice is unexpected. At first it scares me, but as I watch her look over her family, it makes me feel safe. She's right about Leekie, though. We got those files because he arrogantly shared his awful concealing tactics with Cosima. The minute I fed into his opinions about _clones_, he trusted me enough to let me walk away before my 'termination paperwork' arrived. It seems that Dr. Leekie's overconfidence is his biggest disadvantage.

"What are you thinking about?" I hear Siobhan's voice pull me out of my musings. I look at her, blank-faced. "I know that look in your eyes," she smiles for the first time today. It's more of a relief than I would expect.

"We could use that...self-admiration. Honestly, we may not even need to find evidence. He would tell someone the whole story if he thought they'd be impressed or amazed. He'd make a full confession. After that, it wouldn't be hard to convince a judge to give the authorities permission to go through those files in his office…" for the first time in a while, I'm starting to feel hope. It's not a plan I would ever employ, but just the thought of progress eases me. "Did he tell you anything about this whole project?"

"Not much, but I'm certain it's a twin study," she looks at me again.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, aside from Sarah and Cosima both being involved, Dr. Leekie said something to me about it once. He said, '_They're all the same. You can't tell anyone apart. The exact same person_' - things like that, and I didn't know how to interpret it until I met Cosima". Unfortunately, this only provides more evidence for the clone theory. It's outrageous, but it would explain the level of secrecy and assassinations.

"Why did you quit working as Sarah's monitor? You stopped receiving payments a little over ten years ago, but she's been living with you the whole time since then, right?" Siobhan looks at me with uncertainty. I know she still doesn't completely trust me, but she's being open, at least.

"Sarah is wild, but she used to be much wilder. She got herself knocked up and I couldn't let them know about it. Leekie has always talked about this being a study of genes and I just didn't want Sarah's baby to be involved. So, I hid Sarah at home, told them she had run off. It's not out of character for her to just get up and go," I'm starting to get a fuller picture of how trying Siobhan's experience was, just dealing with Sarah. "She was in withdrawal anyways, so it wasn't hard to keep her put. Even reported her missing".

"They know she lives with you now, though?"

"They do. Sarah rarely keeps a relationship long enough for them to come home and meet her family, though, so Kira's existence is usually safe from them. However, in instances like today where Sarah's bringing her boyfriend home, we say that Kira is Felix's daughter and we take care of her since he's always gone".

"Oh, I didn't know Sarah knew. You made it sound like she wasn't aware of–"

"She's not. I, uh…" she hesitates, a hint of guilt in her voice. "I told her it was to keep Kira safe from my people. I used to be involved in a lot of dangerous activities, she knows that, and she promised me that she'd never tell anyone that Kira was hers. I don't know if she completely buys it, but she's kept her promise. That's what matters".

"And the man she's bringing home today, do you suspect him?"

"Actually, I'm not too sure," Kira and Cosima come scurrying back into the house, the younger of the two, sprinting upstairs, and Cosima taking a seat on the armchair. Siobhan smiles at her but continues talking, "Paul seems like a good guy, which is nothing like the men she's dated in the past. I do want to trust him because, if she can keep up with just one man, maybe someday get married, it would be one less person to worry about watching her". I don't mention that Paul could still be recruited after being married.

"And you haven't met him yet, right?" Cosima joins the conversation.

"No, today will be the first time. I've seen pictures and everything, but that's all. You guys can stick around to meet him if you like, they should be back pretty soon," Siobhan seems like she's in a much better mood, but I can't tell why.

"As much as I'd love to, we drove here, like, fourteen or fifteen hours straight and we really should find a hotel and get some rest," Cosima yawns right on cue.

"You know, I trust you both, I really do. I just can't risk anything happening to Kira," I glance at Cosima. She's nodding, seemingly unbothered.

"Wait, you trust us _both_? What changed?" I ask, doubting she meant to say that at all.

"Well...I came to the conclusion while we were talking. Out of all the monitors both Cosima and Sarah have had throughout their lives, no one has come clean about it, not even me," she looks down again, this time shame covering her face.

"Hey, S. You're just protecting her. She'd–"

"Auntie Cosima, I want to show you my project for the science fair. It's going to be a volcano," we hear a shout from the top of the staircase. Cosima smiles and gets up without a word. "I have until after winter break to finish, so I'm going to work on it every day and make it the hugest..." My eyes follow her all the way up the steps until she's turned the corner to Kira's room. She's such a people person. She's great with everyone, and everyone loves her.

"You said things were complicated between you two?" Siobhan takes me out of my thoughts again.

"Yes, I don't really know how to explain it," I look back up the stairs as though it will help me articulate our situation.

"Well, dear. Things don't look complicated to me. The way someone looks at you can reveal a lot of truth, whether you want to or not".

"Does Cosima look at me in…a certain way?" I turn my whole body towards her, for some reason desperately curious.

She laughs at me and I hear Cosima coming back down the stairs. Siobhan whispers to me before getting up, "I wasn't talking about her, darling".

I look at Cosima, glancing between us both like we have a secret she wants to hear. Her suspicious smile drops completely when she looks out the front window. "Uh, S? Is that Sarah's boyfriend?"

We all look out the window and see Sarah walking down the sidewalk, holding a man's hand. "Yes, that's Paul. What's wrong?"

"I've seen that face before. Siobhan, that's the man who robbed the bookstore I worked at. That's the guy who shot me," Cosima is slowly backing away from the window. It looks like an unconscious act.

"What? You were shot?" Siobhan shouts.

"Yes. By that guy," I look back out the window and see them standing at the end of the walkway, talking.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I had to describe his face a million times. That's him," Cosima shakes her head.

"Christ. Can't anything just be easy?" Siobhan grabs a rifle out of the front closet. Rather unanticipated.

"No, S. If he's a monitor, then he's not going to do anything to Sarah. We have to go, though. We can't take the chance that he's here to–"

"Yes," I interrupt, not wanting to face my fate right now, to hear it out loud. "Can we go out the back?"

Siobhan nods, puts the gun back, and walks us to the back door. "Go around this side of the house, there aren't any windows. I'll keep them away from the front windows until I see your car gone," she opens the door to let us out.

"Thank you, S. I'm sorry if this ends up causing more trouble for you," Cosima lingers, making me anxious.

"Take care of each other. I love you, Cosima".

Cosima is about to respond, but the mother pushes us out when she hears the front door opening. We duck as we run under the back windows, making our way to the side of the house. We give Siobhan a minute to usher Sarah and Paul away from the front, and then quickly make our way to the car.

It takes at least twenty minutes of driving for my hands to stop shaking. I don't know why I'm so scared. That was the man who shot Cosima, not me. My guy has a creepy ponytail. I look at Cosima, just staring out the window, her fingers playing with her hair.

"Stop here," she says as we approach a large gas station and convenience store. I pull up to a pump and she goes inside without a word. I don't like being alone, but there are plenty of other people around to help with blending in. It still feels sketchy, though, so I quickly finish filling up the car and pull up to the building just in time for Cosima to come back out, a folded piece of paper in hand.

"What's that?" I ask when she gets in.

"Cashier guy wrote down directions to the nearest hotel. I shouldn't use my phone and I didn't want to be driving around for an hour just looking for a place. Just go straight for a couple blocks, then turn right on…Coxwell," I nod and start driving again.

Cosima reaches in the back seat and grabs the funding files again. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for a line that says PDIERDEN like everyone else," she barely mumbles back. It's a good thing I'm driving. She would've just fallen asleep on the road. "Nothing around the time of the robbery aside from payments to Lucien and the contractor from the police department".

"Cosima, we never confirmed that was the police department, right?" I ask, trying to remember when we first looked through these.

"Not confirmed, no. Why?"

"Maybe the PD doesn't stand for police department. What's that transaction say again?"

Cosima flips the page and reads off the letters, "CNTRCTR-PD. Shit, you're totally fucking right. Contractor, Paul Dierden. That makes complete sense. Turn here," Cosima directs. I nearly miss the turn. "Keep going straight for a bit. Next turn is onto Queen". I nod and we're both silent for a while. Cosima looks over the transactions for a few minutes, but then puts it back and sighs. A feeling of both longing and helplessness sparks in me when we pass a police station. We really should just go to the cops, but they'd think we're crazy and I'm sure Leekie has connections in law enforcement. "Left," Cosima directs tiredly.

"Leekie knows you have family up here. He may have already warned this guy to watch out for us," Cosima points toward the hotel's sign and I pull into the parking lot on the left side of the street. We're parked for a moment before Cosima speaks again.

"I don't think so. He most likely doesn't even know I'm gone, so I wouldn't expect him to suspect you're with me".

"You didn't call off, though, right? He might be suspicious," Cosima rolls her eyes and gets out of the car. I follow her lead.

"I texted Scott last night saying I probably wouldn't be in and I made sure to convince Leekie I wasn't feeling great so it's not like he'd be surprised".

"Oh…" we make our way into the lobby. Cosima walks toward the desk, smiling back at me for a moment.

"Ye of little faith, thanks," she turns around to ask about a room before I can say anything.

* * *

"I want to take a shower," I say as soon as Cosima closes the door behind us.

"You sure that's a good idea?" I turn to see her concerned expression.

"It's been almost two weeks. I think it should be fine". We set the few bags we brought with us on the floor.

"Yeah, but it's not like you're recovering from a papercut, Delphine. You have a hole through your leg". I sit on the bed next to Cosima.

"Honestly, it doesn't even hurt that much anymore. My shoulder is fine. I was completely sedentary in your apartment, I had plenty of time to heal".

"I don't doubt it's better than before, I just don't want you to, like, fall and fucking die in the bathtub. Because, Delphine, that would be a lot of work for me to clean up," I see a slight smile trying to creep up on her lips.

"Well, you're welcome to join me to make sure I stay upright," I don't know why I offer, but I know I mean it. I don't want to mean it, but I really do.

"What's with you lately?" She asks. I look at her questioningly. "Like, being all…I don't know, you're just instigating a lot of stuff, which you've done before, but not to this degree. It's weird".

"I guess…I didn't think about the possibility that you…lost interest," I feel so awkward saying it. Insecure. The feeling isn't unfamiliar, but sharing it is.

"No, it's not that. I'm just not great at dealing with our shit, you know. Like, you understand why I can't reciprocate, right?"

"I don't. No," I respond quietly, looking down at my knees.

"Well, every time you've initiated things in the past, you end up regretting it and it makes me…frustrated. I don't see that being changed so quickly," she shakes her head and joins me in knee-staring.

"Maybe…" I'm starting to get frustrated myself. "Maybe I just had a lot of time to think while I was gone, while I couldn't talk to you or be with you, and maybe I missed you in a way I've never missed someone, and maybe an old lady who just got her gallbladder removed and donated her clothes to me gave me some insight on my feelings". I don't look up, but I can tell that Cosima is staring at me. I don't blow up very often.

"Okay," she says cautiously, getting up to pace in front of me. "So…" she trails off.

"So, come here," I finally look up at her.

"I…I um," Getting ahold of her wrist and pulling her towards me, I barely glance at her eyes before focusing on her lips.

She's letting me pull her in reluctantly, only stopping when her knees meet the bed. I look back up to her eyes and see a familiar feeling. She looks insecure, too. Scared. She's overly cautious and her confidence is dead. Her spark is gone. I knew I hurt her, but this is like an aversion to me.

It only makes sense. Every time something more intimate happened between us, even just a threat of an occurrence, I've made her feel awful about it. Not only did it come across like she was some assailant, and I, the victim, but it also affected her self-confidence. I think about all the things I've said in the past that I regret so much now.

"Cosima, if you don't want…If this is too fast, it's okay. Or if it's not what you want anymore, I'm not going to pressure you into anything. Just tell me what you–"

"Let's, uh…how about I just sit in the bathroom while you take a shower. That way, I'm close by if you need anything, and…yeah," I don't hold on any tighter when I feel Cosima's wrist slipping out of my grip. She's leaving slowly, like she doesn't want to. I recognize the torn expression on her face before she turns away from me completely.

The worst part about this is that I can't just order her to talk to me like I can with tasks at work. I can't make her believe me. I can't make her stop thinking about this as fake or meaningless, as if any gesture is a careless act of disregarding her feelings.

Cosima hands me a towel as I pass by her into the bathroom. She waits outside for me so I can undress and start the shower. As I close the bathroom door behind me, I lean back against it thinking of how perfectly it represents my feelings. I have been away for so long, still close, but still absent. Now that I'm here, less than a foot away from her, I have to comply with the barrier I've been trying so hard to break down.


	9. Favorites

"How are you feeling?"

"Everything's fine, Cosima," I hear over the shower water. "The only thing that's changed is now I'm wet".

I nod my head. I know she can't see me, but it makes me feel better for not really answering. I think she's trying to get me to make a joke, comment on her answer. Normally, I would say something. I mean, she said she was wet. It's hard to ignore that one. Not right now, though. I feel like anything I say could indicate something I don't want it to. I'm still interested in her, but I'm not interested in being the object of her guilt relief. It's so hard to believe anything right now.

I flip through the hotel's Bible trying to find something funny. The few pages I stop on remind me of the short period of time my parents brought me to church. That didn't last very long, and it was just about as comfortable as my current seat on the not-so-spacious sink counter. I've knocked over half the counter's contents just readjusting every five seconds. Finally, I find an entertaining verse and actually laugh.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Something funny," I answer more dismissively than I mean to. The water slows to a stop, and Delphine's arm pokes out to grab the towel.

"I thought you were reading the directory?"

"Finished that," I glance to the laminated booklet on the floor. "Listen to this. _Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion_," I quote. "So, I think it means that if you're a whore then you're the equivalent of, like, a trendy pig. Or maybe women who aren't beautiful are the only ones allowed to dress _without discretion_. What do you think?" I should've just commented on her wetness remark. Now I just sound like I'm faking it. I guess, I am.

"I'm not sure. I, ehm, I think I'll be fine if you want to go sleep now," she says, stepping out from behind the curtain. She obviously has the towel wrapped around her, but I'm still caught in a staring contest with her body. It doesn't help that the towels are so small. I don't move a muscle as she finds another towel to dry her hair with.

"Right…"

"What?" Delphine asks, toweling off her hair. I shake my head, trying to replace my inner frustrations with sleepiness. It doesn't work well. It wouldn't matter anyways, she already caught me drooling over her. "Cosima, can we just talk? Not right now, but at some point, we need to just clear the air here," she says assertively, tossing her hair-drying towel on the side of the tub and tightening the one around her torso.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. What do you…" I lose the rest of my sentence when Delphine stands in front of me. My legs are hanging off the side of the counter and she's so perfectly fit between them.

"You're not being yourself. I mean, that started before everything got so crazy, but it's even worse now. You're quiet, you don't joke around as much, you censor yourself. And I know that you're trying to be considerate, but you used to be so…flirtatiously silly and now you just look depressed when you talk to me. It's not all the time, it's just during these moments…and I…" Delphine looks down at the floor and squeezes her eyes closed. "I just don't know what to do, Cosima".

"That's the problem, though," I explain. "You're only making these advances because you feel bad about me acting differently around you. That's not fair. I don't mean to be depressing or whatever. You don't need to do anything," I don't sound mad yet, but I can feel another fire starting. It's so stupid.

"No, you're not listening," she snaps and looks at me. "I'm acting that way because I do have…feelings," she barely mumbles through the last part, eyes back to the ground. "I'm not trying to taunt you and make your life harder. It isn't some ploy to make you feel better. And it makes me sad that you think so poorly of me. I just…what is it that's stopping you now? What can I do?"

"Nothing, Delphine, it's not like I'm trying to be a dick. It's just, when you have done things in the past on your own accord, you always regret it, like _always_, and I thought about that every time something happened between us. I think that, with you being gone so long, it just didn't do anything but strengthen those memories and bad feelings. There was nothing else there to counteract them, you weren't there".

"So, you're worried that I'll regret it," Delphine summarizes, looking up at me again. I nod. "Okay, then give me a chance to prove I won't".

"It's too hard right now, especially with the situation we're in here," I hand out another excuse, even though I'd rather just give in. "I don't want things to get–"

Delphine's warm lips collide into mine anyways, her hand behind my neck, pulling me as close as our positions allow. Admittedly, this is still my favorite method of ignoring my excuses. I brace myself on her good shoulder and the edge of the counter. She kisses me with more passion than I've seen in all my time knowing her, and I don't feel that slight tremble in her hand, nervousness, restraint, reluctance.

She uses her free hand to pull my leg up to her waist, making sure it stays put before sliding her hand back up my thigh. Just the feeling of the rough towel against my skin, loose and ready to fall at any moment, is turning that fire of frustration into something else entirely. Not to mention the warm, soft hand wandering up my leg and waist.

I'm two seconds away from politely directing her toward the bed with me when her lips and tongue retreat. "See?" she says, out of breath, taking her hand off my neck to catch her sagging towel.

"Huh?" I readjust my glasses and try to remember how to breathe.

"I'd really love to continue. Really. There's still things we need to talk about, I think," she puts her hands on my knees and my efforts at breathing go to waste. "But you should sleep. You've been awake since yesterday morning with only a few hours of rest since then – it's showing. And we can't have a proper conversation if you're too tired to think. C'mon," she offers me a hand down.

"But…" I try to object, though my fatigued mind can't work as fast as it needs to, proving her point. She tugs on my arm when I can't find any real content for my protest and I'm forced to hop down from the counter. I am tired, exhausted really, but something big-ish just happened and I don't want to fucking go to sleep now. "We're not done talking," I try to reason while she pushes me in the direction of the bed.

"Get in bed, we'll talk after," she lightly shoves me back onto the bed and shakes her head at me.

"Ugh, Delphine," I whine, closing my eyes, giving up and throwing my glasses on the bed. "This is so not the context I was hoping for when I imagined you saying that. You bitch," I hear her laugh.

"You know, this is the Cosima that I missed," I open my eyes when I hear her voice getting closer. She's standing at the head of the bed, crossing her arms. "The free-spirited Cosima. The Cosima who didn't hold back the things she wanted to say, didn't shy away from going after what she wanted, didn't restrain what she did for the most part. You were happier…"

"Let me get this straight: You miss me disregarding social boundaries and protocols when it suits me, even if it makes you uncomfortable?"

"Of course. Well, kind of. Mostly. It's your most prominent trait. It's what makes you different and amusing to be around. I don't remember the last time you made an off-color joke or comment. I mean, come on Cosima, you didn't even have a comment when I said I was wet". She caught that…

"Oh, so you like my raciness?" I ask, a smile creeping onto my face.

"Oui. You're…playful with it, so it's just endearing," I see her eyes widen for a moment as she probably realizes what she said out loud and probably didn't want to say out loud.

"Okay, then," I grab the bottom of her towel and whip it off of her, immediately throwing the towel over myself – my head and upper body covered.

"What are you doing?" she doesn't sound as annoyed as I thought she would.

"I may be a pervert, but I'm still a gentleman. I'll give you twenty seconds to scurry your naked self away and get dressed," I smile when I hear her scoff. "One…"

"What happens after twenty seconds?"

"Two…"

I wait, but she doesn't make another comment and I don't hear footsteps.

"Three…"

Nothing.

"Four?"

There's a sigh and then a pressure on the bed near my legs.

"Five…" I continue timidly.

I feel more pressure on either side of my shoulders a split second before she lowers her body onto mine. She pulls the towel off my face and I squeeze my eyes shut. She doesn't object, just gives me a peck on my lips. I feel her body shifting up as she kisses me again. This time with more fervor.

My hands have the great fortune of guiding themselves to the small of her back, which is still warm and soft from the shower. I pull her closer, clutch her until I hear the slightest whimper come from her. I respond by allowing my hands to venture further, up her sides and then down to her hips. I hold tighter and lift my leg up slowly between hers. I don't get a whimper, but a staggered exhale and the temporary paralysis of her lips tells me it's acceptable.

"Cosima," she says in a sigh. "I have to get dressed. You have to…you have to sleep," she tells me yet again. Though, the growing motion in her hips says something else.

"Hey, you're the one who started this. It's hardly my fault," I crack my eyes open, her shoulders being the only thing that's visible. My glasses are off, so it's not like I could see anything anyways.

"I was just retrieving my towel," she gives me one more gentle kiss before getting up with her towel held against her front. Tricky.

"Well, I guess I'll just be chilling here, blue-balling it," I flip her off.

"How about this: if you're still awake when I'm done getting dressed and everything, we'll have sex". Someone's confident.

"Deal".

* * *

"Merde," Delphine's whisper reaches my ears a bit muffled.

My eyes crack open, finding my glasses on the nightstand in front of me. When I put them on, I see I'm already facing Delphine, sitting on the chair by the window trying to put a bandage over the wound on the back of her thigh. There are two opened packages already on the windowsill, so I'm assuming she's on attempt number three.

My attention is brought to the window. More specifically, the sky on the other side of the window. "Oh fuck. I didn't," Delphine jumps at my sudden outburst and then follows my gaze to the now-night sky.

She chuckles. "You were asleep before I even made it into the bathroom. You've been out for about six hours now," she finishes her horrific bandage job and comes to sit next to me on the bed.

"And you even put clothes on. What the fuck, man?" she laughs at my theatrics. "I like you in my clothes, though".

"Yeah? They're either extremely loose or indecently tight," she looks down at the snug tank-top she has on. I go to slide my hand around her waist but stop myself before I can get that far. My insecurity about this whole situation forcing me to reroute, resting my hand on the bed. She proved herself earlier, I know that, but I'm afraid still. I shouldn't be, but I am. Delphine sighs. "I didn't think I'd have to continuously reaffirm this, but, just so you know, I still don't regret it".

"Yeah, but maybe you just don't regret it because you were the one controlling it," I try to sound more lighthearted, but I don't think it works. "I mean, that's when you were most comfortable before – when you were the one in charge," I remember the night we argued. Well, one of the numerous nights we argued.

Delphine sighs again, "Well, what would…ugh. Kiss me, then. Be the one in control. Do whatever you want," she sounds frustrated. It's an odd combination of feelings we're dealing with at the moment.

"Fine," I say, but don't move.

She rolls her eyes and moves back on the bed, then grabs my wrist and pulls it towards her, prompting me to move. "Do what you did before, when I wasn't in control".

I don't mention that she's still controlling the current situation. "Why do you want this so badly now?"

"Because, Cosima. It's taken forever to accept my feelings and since I've done that, you've done nothing but deny them. I understand, I know I've hurt you in the past, but I just want you to trust me. What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know. I just don't know how far you'll be able to go before it's too much again and I have to deal with that rejection. We kissed, yeah, but kissing isn't that hard, really".

"Cosima, that's every relationship. You have to figure it out as you go. But fine, let's just both have feelings for each other and never figure out what would happen if we acted on them," she gets up and goes to the window to pick up the empty bandage wrappers and throw them away.

"Delphine, I–"

"Don't worry about it, Cosima. Let's just–"

"No," I grab her arm as she passes the bed and pull her to me. She stares at me while I guide her to the bed and prompt her to lay back. I look her over for just a moment before lowering myself onto her like she did to me earlier. I'm much more clothed than she was, though.

"Cosima, I don't want you to do this just because–"

"Dude. Make up your mind," I almost laugh at the time it has taken just to get to this point.

She nods and then pulls me to her lips. She starts off slow this time, softly, dragging her hands down my sides. I'm surprised when they make their way under my top, feeling the skin of my waist for a moment before pulling the whole thing off. I kiss her harder, approving her actions.

I sit up to straddle her and then lift her slightly so I can remove her top and throw it next to mine. The noise she makes when I lower myself back down is unbearable. Neither of us are wearing a bra, so the sensations escalate quickly. She's clutching onto my back and hugging me tightly to her, leaving me breathless.

My lip quivers when I feel Delphine's tongue tracing along it. I part my lips, but only to close them around her tongue when it sneaks past them. Her moan softly vibrates against our mouths and I can feel the heat growing between our last items of clothing. Her hands clutch onto my hips as I take her lip between my teeth, but then move to the waistband of my shorts when I release.

"What's wrong?" she asks, out of breath, when my kissing stops and my body tenses.

"I don't think I've ever been so scared when it comes to…this," I chuckle nervously.

"Why?" Delphine looks into my eyes and brushes my thick locks of hair over my shoulder.

"I don't think I've ever liked someone so much," I look away from her, embarrassed. "Like, I've had plenty of sex, I'm not inexperienced. Just…aside from with the few people I've actually dated before sleeping with them, sex has never meant anything. So, it's different, I don't know. Never mind, don't listen to me," I chuckle nervously again.

"Cosima," Delphine sighs. "Tu es si frustrante parfois," I look up to see Delphine just smiling at me. "Stop being a tease and kiss me".

I laugh for a moment at the unexpected forwardness. "Alright, horndog," I kiss her cheek and she hums with a smile. I decide to bypass her waiting lips and explore her neck. The bruises that covered it not too long ago are all gone now. She turns her head, allowing me more room. The only noises she makes are soft exhales and sharp inhales as I cover every inch of her neck and shoulders with kisses. It doesn't take long for Delphine to finish her task and push my shorts and underwear down. I kick them off my feet and return the favor, reaching over the bed to throw the rest of our clothes into a pile on the floor.

I feel her heavy exhale on my chest as I return to my position on top of her, only now I'm choosing to hover, hands and knees, above her. She's letting her eyes wander while her teeth hold down her bottom lip. For some reason, it makes me curious about something and I hesitantly inquire, "Hey, I know you've, like, kissed a girl, or girls, but have you ever…you know…this?"

"I have never known someone to be so talkative during sex," she smirks.

"It's just, I want to make sure you're, like, comfortable. Should I be more instructive or something? Or do you already know what–" I halt my line of questioning when I feel two fingers slide between my legs and stroke me gently, and my surprised moan is swallowed with Delphine's forceful kiss.

Her movements aren't gentle for long, and I can feel her getting worked up, too. I think her moan surprises us both when she dips her finger inside of me, finding it already well-lubricated. My head drops back down to her neck as I try to silence my own involuntary approvals. The cheap hotel surely has cheap walls and I don't want someone banging on our door with noise complaints. Her other hand moves from my thigh, dragging along my stomach, and descending towards its busy counterpart. When she finds my clit and starts moving against it, I can tell this isn't a new experience for her. She is full of surprises.

I sit up, straddling her while she continues to thrust inside of me and stimulate the most sensitive part of my body at the moment. Her lip is caught between her teeth again and she looks like she's getting almost as much pleasure out of this as I am. Reaching behind me, I find the inside of her thigh and run my hand along it until I find what I'm looking for. As I drag my fingers up and down over the soaked skin, I can feel her breath hasten. Impressively, she's able to continue the task she started, if not with more vigor.

It's not long before I feel the intense spasms and release throughout my body. She slows her fingers inside of me, but doesn't completely still them, and the movement against my clit becomes gentler as I calm down. "So," I say, still out of breath, "You have indeed done this with a female".

She shakes her head and I give her a look of doubt. "I've been single for a long time and I know what I like, so…" my jaw drops at her explanation. "That was the easiest instruction that the internet offered – do what you'd do for yourself. And there's not much a partner can do that I can't do on my own".

"Jesus Christ, you're killing me, Delphine," I chuckle at her and she smirks up at me. Reluctantly, I remove her hands and reposition them on my waist as I lay back down to kiss her. She returns to exploring the expanse of my back and my legs to the extent she can reach. "You know," I say, pausing our kiss. She gives me a look for talking again. "There is something you can't really do without a partner…"

"Oh?"

"Yeah," I smile and kiss her cheek. After making my way down her neck and across her collarbones, I start planting small kisses on her breasts, one of my hands alternating to occupy whichever one my mouth is neglecting. I let my kisses dance around the center until I feel her hands start to clench on my back. I stray from my teasing and take her nipple into my mouth. Her hand moves to the back of my head, keeping me there, and her back arches toward me. I let my tongue flick and circle as she tenses up beneath me, and then move to her other breast. I do the same, and after a moment, start to feel her hips moving slightly against my abdomen. I doubt she knows she's doing it, but it's making another fire grow inside me.

I start my slow descent, kissing anything and everything in my path. Whether she's doing it on purpose or not, she has to at least be aware now that her hips are trying to find friction against me. To complete my teasing torture, I lift my body off of her so that she has no contact but my lips. I think I even hear her groan in frustration. It makes me smile. I kiss up and down her thigh, kiss the top of her curls on my way to her other leg, and kiss up and down her other thigh.

"Cosima," she complains in a whisper. I don't answer. Instead, I hold onto her legs and drag my tongue up the middle of her center. The noise she makes in response is unbearable and I don't even care if we get noise complaints now. I carefully descend again and hold her legs down when her hips thrust up. Upon my second upward stroke, I stop at her clit and take it into my mouth, gently moving my tongue against her. I feel her hands on the back of my head, pulling me closer somehow.

After a moment of these same movements, I loosen my grip on her legs and let her start a rhythm. She has to let go of my head with one hand to squeeze the thin comforter, a continuous flow of moans making their way out into the world. She doesn't seem to care, and it only turns me on more. However, it's when she goes silent that I feel my own rush of heat. She grips my hair and her hips pause their movements. The only thing that's moving is my tongue, and the last sound she makes before letting the release take over her nerves is an anticlimactic whimper.

I spend a moment kissing and occasionally flicking her clit with my tongue for a small spasm, but then kiss my way back up to her neck. The trembling I feel in her hands now doesn't give me the same insecurity as it did in the past. I rest my head on her good shoulder a moment to catch my breath. "You know, this was my first time with a girl, too," I say between exhales.

"Even if I didn't already know that was a lie, I wouldn't believe you. That was…" she takes a deep breath, taunting me.

"That was…" I prompt, propping myself up to look at her. A smirk appears when she sees my impatient expression.

"Euh…acceptable. I mean, for a first timer and all," she sticks her tongue out. I don't have enough energy to banter. I just nod with a smile that is starting to hurt my cheeks. Delphine puts her hands on either side of my neck and lets them slide down to my shoulders, across my collarbones, and for no reason stop at my chest. She massages my breasts like she's curious rather than trying to turn me on. Either way, I was already turned on and she's only making it worse.

I try to not think about it for as long as I can, but the sensation is taking over my mind. I close my eyes and rest my forehead on hers. Delphine's hands become more insistent and I feel her breath speeding up to match mine. Apparently feeling ambitious, Delphine mimics what I did to her earlier in the day and lifts her leg between mine. I can't help my exaggerated moan, and she makes one even louder for some reason and pauses her movements.

Delphine quickly reaches down between my legs and sighs, "Cosima, you're already so–"

"Yeah well, I'm in bed with you. What do you expect?" I chuckle, but she seems rather preoccupied. "We don't have to keep going. You're probably really tired. Oh and…" I smile at the bandage on her shoulder, half stuck to her skin and half stuck to itself. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Oh God, yes. It's awful. Don't expect me to be on top for a while," she answers nonchalantly.

"Well, shit, Delphine. Why didn't you say something? You should rest, where is the bag of pain killers?" I roll off of her and try to reach my shirt on the ground.

"Cosima," I hear her very serious voice as she grabs my arm. I turn around, "If you step one foot out of this bed, I'm going to throw you out the window".

I grin and move beside her. "What about your pain?"

"Mmm, those pills help reduce it, but I think I've found another painkiller," she says seriously. "I'd take more initiative, but I'll hurt too much being on top, so get over here," she orders assertively. What else am I going to do? Like I'd deny her anything. I climb back on top of her and am about to kiss her when I feel a familiar soft pressure between my legs. Her fingers move up and down, making a quiet _tsk_ noise, and her eyes flutter shut just feeling me. She is the sexiest sex partner I've ever had by far.

* * *

"We have to get up".

"That is a lie".

"We can't lay in bed all day".

"Also, a lie".

"The longer we wait to act, the more risk there is of Leekie putting the pieces together before we _can_ act".

"They will never find us here. Stay in bed".

"I can't believe I'm the responsible one right now. Get up, Delphine," I slap her arm playfully and she giggles at me without even cracking her eyes open. We stayed up until three in the morning. And after exploring the new terrain that we discovered, we still stayed up another hour just talking. It was nice.

"But Cosima…" she whines, squirming closer to me and kissing my neck. She learned last night that it's one of my weak spots. I let her take advantage of it with the intention of eventually fending her off so we can get on with the day. That is, before her hand starts to locate and remap all my other weak spots…

* * *

"Okay, now we really have to get up, Delphine," I say more assertively this time.

"I know," she smiles deviously at me.

"I'm gonna take a shower," I finally get out of bed, a little dizzy from the exercise and lack of sustenance. I grab some clothes and throw them on the bathroom counter. I'm conveniently already undressed, so there's not much prep work.

"You know, I really should take a shower, too. My healing wounds and all…I wouldn't want the sweat and various other body fluids hindering the process…" she looks at me with an even more devious smile.

* * *

"Holy fucking shit. I don't know how, but we managed to procrastinate half the day away. It's almost four o'clock," I roll my eyes at the alarm clock.

"Yes, you really need to get your self-control in check," Delphine finishes replacing her bandages. I turn to glare at her, but she doesn't care at all.

"Your stamina is impressive. Where have you been hiding that?"

"It's been building up over the last three or four months, and I haven't really had the opportunity to deal with it myself".

"You've only been gone for one. Are you telling me that this could've happened months before you even left?" I gape at her.

"No, probably not," her smile fades, and her stare moves to her intertwining fingers. "I was still denying…things then. It wasn't really until I was gone that I stopped". Delphine turns to stare out the window but tenses up when she does. "Cosima," she says seriously, "Get your things, let's go".

"What?" I watch as Delphine grabs the few items of clothing that we brought inside with us. "What's wrong?"

"Sarah's new boyfriend is inspecting our car," she nods toward the window. I cautiously peek out the side and see Paul looking in the back seat through the window. The feeling of dread that washes over me totally kills the buzz I had going. Dammit Paul.

"Well, fuck. Okay, you got that?" she nods, hanging the bag over her shoulder and heading toward the door. Although she's much better, she still has a noticeable limp. Our activities probably didn't help that. We walk as fast as we can down the hall toward the elevators. The whole twenty second wait for one of the doors to ding open is terrifying, but we both calm down a bit when we enter an empty elevator. We're on the third floor, so it won't take long. I have no idea where we're going to go, especially if our ride has a dangerous obstacle.

"This is really fucking disappointing," I hear Delphine whisper beside me.

"Wow, I don't think I've heard you drop the F bomb," she doesn't look at me. I can see the anxiety building in her eyes. "Hey, it'll be alright," I comfort, grabbing her hand. She squeezes back without question and laces her fingers between mine. It's not the ideal time for these feelings, but I do find a lot of pleasure in the gesture.

When the doors ding again, we both hesitate before taking a step out. A private hotel room would be a great place to assassinate someone, so it's likely that Paul will try to find us inside. I peek my head out and see Paul at the front desk, charmingly thanking the receptionist and heading up the stairs.

"What is it?" Delphine whispers behind me.

"Impeccable timing," I respond, waiting for all of Paul's body to be out of sight before fleeing. "He just went upstairs. Let's go," I pull her out of the elevator behind me and we head toward the back door that leads straight into the parking lot. Since he's not guarding the car anymore, we can still use it to escape in time. Still don't know where to. Neither of us know the area. But at least we're not on foot.

"Do you think he put anything on the car?" Delphine wavers before we get in. "You know, like a bomb or something when someone opens the door or starts it?"

"I don't know," I answer nervously. I walk around the vehicle and check for something out of the ordinary – not that I would know what that looks like anyway. I sigh and look up to our room's window. I can see Paul through the next window over – the hallway. If Delphine hadn't seen him, we could've been dead by now.

Unfortunately, Paul stumbles upon the same luck and glances out the window. He pauses for half a second and then I see him turning back toward the stairs. "I think the car is fine," I say, unlocking and opening the door. Nothing blows up yet. "Otherwise, he wouldn't be in such a hurry to get back down here," I nod at the passenger door for Delphine to get in.

"Okay, go ahead," she permits and closes her eyes. I turn the key and the engine starts, explosion-free.

"Awesome, let's go," I back the car up and speed out of the parking lot onto the main road. "Shit, he's quick," I see him hopping on a motorcycle parked in front of the lobby doors. "Why does everyone have a fucking motorcycle?"

"Turn here, Cosima," Delphine points at the road we took to get to the hotel.

"I don't think we should go back to Siobhan's," I turn anyway and pray we don't hit any red lights. Paul is right on our heels.

"No, look," she points to the building on the next block.

"Delphine, I don't know how much the police can help us with this. We don't really have any proof aside from those transactions and they don't really prove anything illegal. I mean, if we had those threatening contracts–"

"He won't try to kill us in the middle of a police station, though," she points out. I nod and pull up in front, grab the documents from the back just in case, and we bolt into the building just as Paul is coming around the corner.

When we get inside, Delphine immediately takes a seat in the little waiting area and holds her leg. I'm sure it's killing her. I try to catch my breath for a moment before approaching the counter, but everyone is looking at us funny. I roll my eyes and walk up to what looks like the main desk.

"Hey, can we talk to someone about…uh," I don't even know what to call our situation.

"Reporting a crime? Pressing charges?" the woman behind the counter prompts. It's the worst timing, but I feel a cough trying to rise up in my throat.

"I don't fucking know," I say exasperatedly. "Reporting a crime, I guess. I mean, some dude is chasing us, trying to kill her. And there's an illegal experiment or some shit going on and–"

"Uh, I'll take it from here," a dark-skinned man puts his hand on my shoulder and turns me away from the desk. "Why don't you and your friend come back to my desk and we'll talk? Thanks Julia," he glances back at the lady at the desk and starts to walk me away from her.

I look at him nervously. Is he just another one of Leekie's guys? This is so fucking frustrating. "Why? Are there cameras? Are there people around? Witnesses?"

"Because," he says closer to my ear. "If you keep announcing some weird illegal experiment, you'll compromise my case against it. Let's go," he gestures toward a hallway and I reluctantly follow with Delphine close behind. I look back at the main entrance and see Paul on his way inside. He wouldn't kill us in here, would he?

"Hey, mister police guy?" I get the man's attention. "The dude who just came in is the one trying to kill–"

"Okay, okay, wait in there," he interrupts, pointing toward what looks like an interrogation room. Delphine and I sit at the table and I try to listen to what they're saying.

"Can I help you, sir?" the police guy asks charmingly.

"Yes, I'm trying to…my sister is in the middle of some shady stuff and I just want to, uh, make sure she's okay. She really shouldn't be here, I should take her home," Paul returns uneasily. It's not very convincing in my opinion.

"Yes, well, I actually deal with this a lot. I work for a man named Leekie," the officer says. Now I'm sure we're going to be killed. Both of us stay still for now, though. No use in running when there are two armed guys right outside the door. "I'm the one who takes care of this when we get subjects in here. I listen, make them feel like I'm taking them seriously, and then calm them down. You go home for now and they'll be out of here by this evening. Then, whatever you need to do with them, go ahead".

"God fucking dammit," I whisper a little too loudly in Delphine's direction.

"I'm sorry I suggested we come here. I really thought this would've been the safest place," she apologizes, holding her head in her hands. "I just walked us into another trap".

"Hey, it's not your fault. We'll find a way out of this, and if not, at least this time I know I'll get to die with you," I chuckle. Delphine looks at me with a heavy expression. I can't tell exactly what she's feeling, though.

"Alright, come on. I got you guys a couple hours," the officer whispers, poking his head in the room.

"What, before you kill us?" I ask sarcastically.

"I know what it looks like, okay. But if you come back and meet my partner, I think you'll see I'm on your side," he nods his head further down the hall. I look at Delphine and she shrugs. I really do want to trust him. It would be so much easier just to trust him.

"Alright, dude. Anything weird, though, and I'm kicking you in the balls," I warn. He laughs and nods. We follow him past quite a few empty desks. I guess not a lot of people come into work on Saturdays.

"Okay, so, I'm Detective Arthur Bell," the man finally introduces, "And I think you'll recognize my partner," he gestures toward a woman filling out paperwork at her desk.

"Sarah?" I look her over, well-dressed, no thick eye liner, hair is actually brushed.

"Beth," she corrects. "Art, why'd you bring her here?"

"Didn't. They came in, started talking about some illegal experiment going on. Looks like Manning's guy is after them," Art puts his hands in his pockets and leans on Beth's desk. I look at her name plate: Det. Elizabeth Childs.

"Manning's guy? Like Sarah Manning, my sister? And also, who the fuck are you?" I try to keep my voice down, but it's getting difficult.

"Art, we have to bring them back to our place. We can't talk about this in the middle of the station," she ignores me. Art nods and directs us further back. We follow him, but I can't stop looking back at the other Sarah. Triplets?

"Hold on," he instructs us, poking his head out the back door and looking around. "Alright, let's go. There," he points his keys toward a black car, unlocking it. "Get in the back seat, keep your heads down".

"Why does it feel like we're walking into our own murder?" I ask, opening the door for Delphine who has been silent thus far.

"You still don't believe I'm on your side?" He gets in the front and starts the car, pulling it around to the back door we came out. The other Sarah appears after a minute and gets in the passenger seat.

"Ready. Go ahead," she says. She's so serious. Art drives without a word. Delphine grabs my hand and bites the nails of her other. "You're lucky you look so different," the woman looks back at us. "Would've been a lot more trouble if people recognized you".

"What the fuck is that even supposed to–" I start to shout at her, but my inevitable cough finally takes over.

"You're already sick," she states factually. She's really pissing me off for some reason. I wish this Sarah was more like the other Sarah.

"I like to smoke a lot of illegal marijuana that I get from a sketchy drug dealer, so that might have something to do with it," I say it like I'm trying to challenge her or insult her since she's such a stiff cop. Actually, I'm surprised I get the whole sentence out between coughs. She rolls her eyes.

"How far along has it progressed? Is there blood when you cough? Fainting spells? Seizures?" she asks so mechanically.

"God, you're an awful Sarah," I mumble.

"Sarah is an awful Sarah," she responds with a sneer. "And I'm Beth. I probably know Sarah better than you," she glares back at me.

"Beth," Art soothes, giving her a look. She turns back around.

"She's just another one we have to deal with," Beth responds nastily. "Why can't they just stay put?"

"What the fuck is going on here," we are all surprised at Delphine's outburst. Another F bomb, too.

"Hey, hey," Art tries at peacekeeping again. "Everybody just calm down. We're going back to mine and Beth's place to fill you in since you apparently already know more than you should. Where are you guys coming from? We haven't seen you around".

"We drove up here from Minneapolis a couple days ago," I answer.

"You guys got names?" Beth seems to be attempting manners.

"I'm Cosima, this is Delphine," I answer again. Delphine appears to be done with talking for now.

"You a monitor? Or, uh…" Art glances back at Delphine.

"Boss, then monitor, then fired as monitor, and now…friend…" she says awkwardly. We haven't exactly had time to discuss our relationship. I don't think either of us really want to.

"Why is Sarah's monitor after you?" Beth sounds like she's calmed down a bit. Or maybe just found something else to focus on.

"I was supposed to be killed over a month ago but managed to evade the guy for a while. After I met up with Cosima again, we drove up here to try and find more information and I guess Paul found out we were here and told Leekie or something".

"And you're sure he's trying to finish the job? Is that it?"

"Well," I start, tired of Beth's attitude. "He found us at our hotel, inspected our vehicle, saw us out the window, ran after us, chased us on his motorcycle all the way to the police station, and didn't seem to like the idea of leaving without our severed heads, so yeah. I think he's trying to finish the job".

"Art, you take them up. I'm going to wait down here for a minute. Make sure no one followed," Beth says when we park on the street in front of a condo.

Art nods and we follow him into the building. I look back at Beth and see her glaring at the street. I don't know why she's so pissed.

"Don't mind her," Art notices our silence. "She's not as grumpy as she seems. She truly cares about you all," he unlocks the door and we enter a high-end looking living room. Delphine and I take a seat on the couch and Art puts his bag and keys down. "I think that's why she acts so angry all the time. She doesn't want anyone to know how much she really cares".

"About you all," Delphine repeats. "Who all?"

"Everyone else in the _experiment_".

"So, how did you find out about Beth? How did you guys find out about the whole thing?" I ask.

"I was asked to be her monitor. We were good friends, good partners. And clearly, we're cops, we know a bit about law. So, when I told her about it, we were obviously skeptical. Didn't do anything about it at first, though. It wasn't until Sarah was brought into the station that we started digging deeper. We were lucky Beth wasn't in when Sarah showed up. Everyone just thought it was Beth and she went out and had a few too many. It got Sarah out of whatever charge she came in with".

"So, you told her about it, too. I'm not the only one?" Delphine asks, half relieved, and half pissed for some reason.

"Yeah. I mean, I was doing it for about three or four months before I told her, but eventually I did".

"Delphine told me about it before she even agreed to do it," I brag. Delphine rolls her eyes.

Art chuckles, "At least no one wants to kill me".

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," we all turn to the door as Beth enters. She seems like she's in a better mood.

"No one besides Beth," he corrects with a smile.

"So," she turns toward us with her hands on her hips. "What do you know?" Straight to the point.

"Leekie is conducting an illegal experiment, monitors are told not to tell law enforcement or they'll be killed basically, Leekie says the study is about some genetic birth defect that doesn't really make sense, it's been going on since we were infants, I was delivered at a Dyad facility, not sure about everyone else. I can't really remember what else was on those profiles. Tag numbers. We only got mine and Sarah's," I say in one breath.

"Wait, what profiles?" Beth takes a few steps closer to me. It's a bit intimidating.

"Leekie keeps all the files of the subjects and monitors and shit like that in his office. That's why they're trying to kill Delphine. We stole a few. And she exposed the study to her subject".

"Why didn't you start with that? Where are they?" she isn't smiling or anything close to it, but she sounds excited – not grumpy.

"Leekie had an old monitor of mine burn them while we were away for a moment…" the memory still makes me furious.

"God dammit," Beth turns around and leans against the wall. She's so touchy.

"We do have some transactions with us, though," Delphine says, nodding toward me. I take the folded bunch of papers out of my pocket and hand it to Beth.

"Hmm," she looks over them silently for a moment.

"Can't we just, like, look for enough subjects and convince their monitors to all confess? That would warrant some kind of investigation or something, right?" I ask Art.

"We started there," he comes to sit on the armchair next to me, a distant expression on his face. A heavy expression. "Three monitors were killed and Leekie's cleaner came to take over the investigation. Nothing was done. We decided it would be safer to just build up a case with evidence instead of confessions".

"What do you have so far?" Delphine asks with hope in her voice.

"This isn't much, but we can still add it to our files," Beth interrupts, handing the transactions to Art. He glances between us for a moment, making sure it's okay that he takes them. I nod.

"Something else," Delphine starts hesitantly, "You, Sarah, Cosima – you all look alike. It's crazy, and I don't know what to believe, but Leekie said–"

"Clones?" Beth finishes.

"It's true?" Delphine practically whispers, as though someone was listening in on us. Beth nods. "How do you know?"

"Well, it's unlikely that some poor woman had over twenty identical children. So much of Leekie's research is about cloning, genetics, out of the ordinary methods. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together".

"You read his research?" I ask, trying not to sound condescending. I don't think I've looked much into his stuff.

"One of our forensics nerds went over it with me. I wouldn't have understood it otherwise".

"Over twenty…" Delphine looks skeptically at Beth.

"We've identified twenty-four others. Sarah, obviously. One more in Canada. Not you, though," she says, looking at me like it's my fault. "They're all over the world".

We're all silent for a while, Beth and Art letting us process. It's pretty unbelievable. They bring out a box of their findings so far and we look through the other subjects for the rest of the day. Mostly just basic information like date of birth. Probably got them from work. It looks like two of them have died since being found by Beth and Art. Their date of death is handwritten on their profiles. They got sick, just like me, which means that's where I'm headed. Death. Beth seems fine, but she knew the symptoms. Did she observe the others or look at their medical records somehow? Maybe she knew one of the other girls. Should I expect to start having seizures next?

"You guys can stay here for a bit," Beth offers.

"Thank you. And thank you for saving us back there," I try to take advantage of her brief calmness. She nods and hands us two pillows and a blanket.

"Couch folds out," she instructs, nodding once more and disappearing into her bedroom.

"Are you okay?" Delphine whispers to me once we've set up our pillows and crawled under the blanket.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Why?" I can hear the odd pitch in my voice. I don't know where it's coming from.

"I don't know. We confirmed the crazy theory. Kind of. How do you feel about it?" she takes my hand and lays on her side to face me.

"It's weird. I haven't thought much about it. I mean, we already had an idea, so it's not, like, _new_ news. I just…I just don't feel real now, you know?"

"How so?" Delphine strokes the back of my hand.

"Well, you were made out of people, right? What the hell am I made out of? I didn't grow from a natural process. I was constructed. Like, what the fuck am I supposed to think of myself? And I'm not even some unique design, I'm one copy of who knows how many more. If there is a fucking god, he had no part in making me. Do I have a soul? What is a soul? Did they program a soul into me? Did they program my personality? Have all my actions been predicted already? Do I have free will?"

"Cosima, calm down," Delphine lays her other hand on my cheek, bringing my attention to her concerned expression. "You're real. You have a soul. There's no way they could've programmed your personality. Everyone's predictable to some extent, and you have plenty of free will".

"How do you know?"

"How do you know that I even have a soul, that I have free will?"

"Because you're not a science project," I close my eyes. I can't even tell which of these issues I'm upset about.

Delphine sighs. "Cosima, whatever and whoever you are, however you came into this world, it's all irrelevant. People love you for who you've made yourself into. People appreciate what you do, how you work, how you talk to everyone. And just look at Beth and Sarah. They're both so different from you. The only thing you have in common is that you look alike, and you don't even look that much like them. You have your own unique style, personality. You walk differently, speak with a different accent, think differently".

"Okay, thanks for the pep talk," I smile, and Delphine reaches over to kiss my forehead.

"Personally, you're my favorite," she whispers in my ear before laying back down next to me.

"Bitch. I'm everyone's favorite".

* * *

Art fetches Delphine's car from the station the next morning after dropping Beth off for work. We're both incredibly grateful, but Delphine secretly rolls her eyes when he brings back croissants. The coffee feels like a luxury I haven't had in forever – even longer for Delphine. Clonage aside, it's a pretty good morning.

"I have to call Leekie," Art informs us, sitting on the same armchair he occupied yesterday. "If Paul tells him about our interaction at the station, and Leekie doesn't get a call from me, it's going to raise suspicions".

"Yeah, the last thing we need," I close my eyes, still tired even though I got plenty of sleep.

Art dials a number on his phone and reclines comfortably. "Good morning, I need to talk to Dr. Aldous Leekie … Arthur Bell from the monitoring program … Thanks," he sips his coffee casually. I wonder if he does this a lot. "Hey, Dr. Leekie. I was just calling about some girls who came into the station yesterday … Mhm … Yeah, kind of, but she had dreadlocks and glasses, so I didn't really … Yeah, a French, uh … No, her hair was brown. It looked dyed, though," Delphine and I look at each other. She looks at my dreads and spectacles, I examine her still very blond hair. "They said someone was trying to kill them, some sketchy study going on, and … Uh, no. If they had any evidence, they didn't show or mention it … I told them that studies can seem sketchy sometimes, but everything seemed legal. I'm not sure if they bought it, but they left looking disappointed to say the least. They won't be coming to the police again, I don't think. At least not in Toronto … Yeah, they were planning on getting out of town. I think they already left … Yeah … No problem. I just thought you should know … Yeah … Bye".

"Wow," Delphine's the first to comment. "That was great. Professional. Do you do that often?"

"I don't report people coming in often, no. But I call about every three or four months with some bullshit story about Beth. Just trying to keep up the act, you know. I don't think he has a clue".

"Why did you tell him Delphine dyed her hair?"

"Just another thing to throw him off. Plus, it's not good to agree with everything".

"He is an idiot sometimes," I point out. "It actually sounds kind of fun to lead him wherever you want like that".

"You know what else is good?" Art leans forward with a chipper smile. "The fact that we're using the money he pays me to watch Beth to fund our investigation into him. He's basically paying us to expose him".

Delphine and I both laugh, but mine quickly turns into a sudden coughing fit. Delphine puts her hand on my back, unsure of what to do, and Art passes me a box of tissues. Out of everything, I think the part I hate most about these fits is everyone staring at me without saying anything. It's like they're waiting for me to keel over. The blood isn't helping. There's a lot this time and it's darker.

The dizziness comes all at once, unlike its usual steady buildup, and I feel nauseous. If this had happened yesterday during our escape, we would've been dead.

"Cosima?" I hear Delphine's voice, sounding far away. "Cosima," she calls one more time before I lose consciousness altogether.

* * *

"Passionate. She just always has so much energy and commitment to what she's doing. She puts all of her attention into something and it's amazing," I hear Delphine's soft voice as I return to consciousness, keeping my eyes closed so I can effectively eavesdrop. "What about Beth? What's she like?"

"Hard-headed and determined. She doesn't care what people think about her. She's smart, quick on her feet, and believe it or not, she's sweet. She doesn't show it to many people, and she'd never admit it, but she can be really delicate at times. I think that's why I fell for her. When I saw that side of her, I just wanted to be the only person to see it. It's probably selfish, yeah, but I still feel that way".

"You two love each other very much, it seems," I gather that I'm laying down on the couch, my head on Delphine's lap. She strokes my cheek for a moment.

"We do. You wouldn't be able to tell at the station or out in public, but you guys have the privilege of being in our home with us. Doesn't seem to be the case with you two, though," Art replies. I can hear the smile in his voice.

"What doesn't?" Her hand gently falls stationary across my collarbones.

"It's pretty obvious. Don't need to read too deep to figure out how you feel about each other," Art states factually. I wouldn't hide my feelings about Delphine, but I didn't think it was just plainly obvious.

"Well, I'm not sure what she thinks, but…" Delphine's thumb strokes my neck. I try my best to keep my heartrate under control. "I do love her".

And heartrate officially not under control.

"I can tell," Art's voice gets farther away, and I hear him walking to a different room. "Alright. I'm going to get Beth and then we can talk," Art leaves after Delphine hums her acknowledgement. The door rattles from the outside as he locks it.

"I know you're awake, Cosima," Delphine informs me, her stroking motions on my neck continuing.

"How?" I open my eyes and see her looking down at me.

"You breathe slower when you're sleeping".

"Ah, creep," I lift my head off her lap and sit crisscross next to her on the couch. "How long have you known I was awake?"

"Since you woke up a couple minutes ago," she crosses her arms. "How did you sleep?"

"I mean, I just passed out, right?"

"You did, then after about ten minutes, you came to, told me how fucking tired you were, then laid back down to sleep," I don't remember this. No…I vaguely remember this. Very vaguely.

"How long was I asleep for, then?"

"Well, you passed out shortly after Beth went to work, and now Art is going to pick her up," my eyes widen. I heard Art, but I didn't really put it together. Their living room doesn't have any windows for me to gauge the time by the light.

"How are your leg and shoulder?" I peek under the collar of her shirt and see a new bandage.

"Fine. Art helped me clean off and everything. Apparently, Beth has a drug issue, so I got some pretty heavy painkillers, too," she smiles. "Art gave them to me".

"Cool. Cool," I nod slowly.

"Cosima," Delphine says with a smirk.

"Yes, Delphine?"

"I know you heard me," she uncrosses her arms and turns toward me. "What I said while you were pretending to be asleep".

"Oh, I…uh…"

"I don't need you to say it back. I just wanted you to know," she leans in and kisses me sweetly. It leaves me lightheaded. "Are you hungry? Art made some pasta earlier," she gets up and makes her way to the kitchen.

"Yeah…yeah, really hungry," I say like I'm realizing something amazing.

"I really like Art," Delphine dishes up a bowl of spaghetti and sauce. "He cares so much about Beth and they seem to make a really good team".

"Yeah. He's a little easier to be around, though. Honestly, Beth kind of scares me," I chuckle and take the bowl from Delphine.

"The way Art talks about her…I think once you get to know her, she's easier".

"This is delicious," I practically inhale the food.

"Well, it's good, but you also haven't eaten in a while. We ate hardly anything yesterday, and you've been asleep today".

"I disagree. We ate quite a bit yesterday," I say, raising my eyebrow at her.

"Not food, though," she chuckles and shoves my arm. "We're going to talk about plans when they get home".

"Mkay," I bring my empty dish to the kitchen to wash it. In the silence, I can't help thinking about what Delphine said. I told my first girlfriend that I loved her, but with my other relationships, I either didn't feel that, or just never said it. Delphine and I aren't even officially in a relationship. Are we? Should I say it back? I haven't had any time to think about it. I don't want to say it back just as a reaction to her saying it, but I don't want to leave her hanging either.

I sit back down next to Delphine. I think she can sense my distress. The more I think about our situation – our entire situation – the more distressed I become. "Delphine, how the hell are we even here?"

"Toronto?"

"No. In the middle of some huge conspiracy, being chased, being harbored like fugitives, I'm a fucking science experiment for Christ's sake. Like, what the fuck, how is this an actual thing and how are _we_ the people involved? Unless you have some secret spy past or whatever, we're just random, normal, average people. It makes no fucking sense. And look at you. You're all fucking shot up. And this whole clone bullshit. It's not real, Delphine. None of it. It's just not fucking real".

"Cosima, it's okay. Calm down. You'll–"

"Fuck," I barely croak out before I start coughing again.

It's not as bad as the last one. There's only a few drops of blood and it's not as intense. It almost sounds like I'm simply clearing my throat continuously. The only thing that's worse about this one is that it lasts the entire half hour it takes for Art and Beth to return, and then at least ten minutes after that.

The coughing hasn't been this frequent before. Once in a day for more than half the week, yes, but not multiple fits throughout the day. It makes me nervous. It forces me to face my mortality. My imminent mortality. Seeing Beth perfectly healthy makes it worse. And the whole fucking clone thing. I feel like she's the _before_ picture and I'm the _after_ picture.

When the cough finally subsides, I rest my head on Delphine's shoulder and close my eyes. She holds my hand and lets me just rest. This is probably why I'm so exhausted. Breathing is a workout. I feel like every breath, every cough, every drop of blood is just another large footstep toward death's door and there's no one there with me. Delphine may be holding my hand here, but she's not even present where I am emotionally. And I really shouldn't want her to be present. It's a gloomy path that ends with nothing. But I can't help wanting her hand in mine while I make my way there.


	10. Difficile

I can't tell anymore if the moisture in Cosima's eyes is tears or just the result of her coughing. Maybe it's both. I feel a drop on my shoulder and a heavy sigh.

"All good?" Beth peeks her head into the living room. Cosima sticks her thumb up without moving off my shoulder. "Okay, so let's figure out what we're going to do with you two. You've got a target on your back that's not going to go away anytime soon. Leekie hopefully bought Art's story and thinks you guys are skipping town, but there's still a chance he'll keep someone in the area". Beth takes a seat in the chair Art usually sits in.

"Well, Paul is gonna be around for Sarah," Cosima speaks, rolling her head off my shoulder and onto the back of the couch. "We know they're after Delphine, but at this point they could be going for me, too. I mean, what's one clone out of a thousand?" she smiles, but I know how she feels about all of this.

"I wouldn't be surprised. Seems like Leekie's biggest thing is feeling smarter and more powerful than everyone else. You might pose a threat to him," I look at Beth, awkwardly playing with her fingers. She's being nice for some reason. Maybe she feels bad about her behavior when she first met us.

"Oh yeah. The mighty genius Cosima over here who can't even lift her head," Cosima snorts.

"You're smarter than me. And you're handling yourself a lot better, too. When I got sick, I just stayed in bed and waited to die. Got into drugs like an idiot. Still haven't beat that," Beth sighs and I feel bad about accepting her pills from Art so easily.

"But," Cosima sits forward, "You beat this…sickness, illness, whatever this is? You don't have it anymore?"

"The, uh…what makes you say…why do you think…I'm…" Beth stutters and looks at the floor. I can't place her expression. Nervous? Anxious? Angry?

"For starters, you're not dead," Cosima responds to her nonsense. "And I haven't seen any symptoms from you. If you've been sick for a while – longer than me, then something should've shown by now," she observes suspiciously.

"Yes," Beth finally answers, a little frustrated. "Yes, I'm better".

"So, if this thing isn't fatal, how did those other girls die?" Cosima's hands are trembling from the energy she should be conserving, but instead is using to be an interrogator.

"They died from the disease. It is fatal," Beth answers. She has the same expression, but I can see it's actually closer to guilt or shame.

"But you didn't? Is it not fatal for you?" I put my hand on Cosima's knee, attempting to tone down the confrontation.

"No, I," Beth runs her hands through her hair nervously. "I got the cure".

"So, there's a cure," I try to reiterate in a positive attitude since this conversation is getting heated. "That's good right?"

"No, I mean, yes. It is, but it's not available for everyone. I got…special access," Beth clarifies quietly, clasping her hands together and squeezing until her knuckles turn white.

"Why did…when…" Cosima fumbles over her words trying to find the ones she's looking for. "How come you got special access and everyone else gets a death sentence?"

"It's not like that," Beth says, still avoiding eye contact. "I just…I had…"

"Beth," we all look up at Art, walking up behind Beth and putting his hand on her shoulder. "It's fine. I can…" Art nods his head in lieu of words. Beth sniffles once before standing up aggressively, grabbing her keys, and slamming the door on her way out.

"This is a kind of touchy subject for her," Art takes a seat.

"Why?" Cosima asks with an attitude. "She doesn't like that she doesn't have to die?"

"In a way, yes," he answers, catching Cosima's genuine attention. "We had to do some pretty nasty stuff to get it and it's only caused her pain. Well, _I_ had to do some pretty nasty stuff".

"What did you have to do?" I ask.

Art nods to himself for a minute, looking at the ground just like Beth did. "We, uh, we started our investigation into this a month or so before Beth got the cure. So, we didn't really have much information. We had already known about Sarah for a while, but other than that, we just had a few faces and names, nothing else".

"You did all that through your office?" Cosima asks. I'm relieved she sounds a bit calmer.

"Yeah, most of it. The morgue was helpful unfortunately. Beth was already pretty sick when I found the first girl. Saw the same symptoms that Beth had. When I asked Leekie about Beth's symptoms, he heavily implied that Beth was headed the same way. It was like he didn't care, or just wanted to hang it over my head like proof of superiority. It was fucked up. And she was getting worse, fast. It was really hard to watch," Art glances around aimlessly. "That's actually when she moved in with me. She was getting so sick, she just needed someone to take care of her, you know? Anyways, I got a call from Leekie asking for a favor. Several favors. And he said that, when he got confirmation they were finished, he'd give Beth the cure. It sounded like an amazing deal".

"What were the favors?" Cosima prompts.

"Yeah, uh…Well, I wasn't asked to directly kill anyone. I think he knew I wouldn't go for it. But I was told to put certain people in the line of fire. Beth told me not to do it. She'd rather just die. And I know it was selfish of me to ignore that, but I did. Two men and one woman. Put the two guys in situations I knew would get ugly and…let it happen. The woman, though…I had to use my badge to lure her into a trap. I escorted her to her murder," Art trails off quietly, a blank expression taking over his face.

"And that's when Beth was cured?" I ask, not really knowing what to say about his actions.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, some lady came by a few times to give her injections and she was completely better within two months". He nods to himself again. "Physically, that is. The entire time she was recovering, though, she would barely speak to me. She was so mad. And I was, too. I hated myself, but, you know, I loved her more. In time, she saw that and eventually forgave me. At least, to the extent she could. And honestly, I think that's a big reason she feels so guilty now: because she did forgive me".

"Shit, that's intense," Cosima sympathizes.

"Gets worse," Art chuckles sadly. "After all that, we put a lot more effort into our investigation. It was a way to make up for what I did. Not that it was something I could make up for. But we dug deeper and found a few more girls. Eventually we were able to loosely identify their monitors just by interactions in the past or ongoing. Social media was an incredible tool, much to my dismay," he chuckles again, more self-deprecatingly. "That's, uh…that's when we found those three dead monitors. And they were all familiar".

"No way. Was it the people you…" Cosima inquires curiously. I hear no judgement in her voice.

"Yep. It was them. A boyfriend of Sarah's who had filed a police report with a different division about suspicious activity. Coworker of a subject up in Ottawa, probably threatening Leekie directly. And an adoptive sister. We're actually not sure if she was a monitor or if she just found out, but I don't know, she had a monitor vibe if there's such a thing".

"That sucks, man," Cosima comments. "What, uh…what else? How'd you guys get all the information you have now?"

"Well, the cleaner that came and took over the investigations for those three deaths had set up an off-site office. Following him there was easy. Then we planned a break-in. I distracted the guy for a few hours at the station and Beth made copies of everything she could. Not much of it was helpful, but we kept what seemed relevant".

"You two have really gone to some incredible lengths for this, haven't you?" I say somewhat off-handedly.

"We have, yeah. We're going to uncover this one way or another. Obviously, a great thing for all of you," he gestures to Cosima. "But it would also get me off the hook with Leekie. He's been asking for little favors ever since those three. No more death but giving him confidential information or finding people".

"But Beth is already cured. He has nothing over you more than he has anyone else, really," Cosima says. "It's not like he can un-cure her".

"I mean, he probably could somehow, and there's still the threat of being taken out. But the main thing is that he has dirt on me. He could send some damning evidence to the station, exposing my involvement in those deaths. He has evidence of me explicitly agreeing to it".

"Damn," Cosima sighs. "How much more proof do you need before you can do something?"

"Hm," Art sighs and leans back in his chair. "Really, we have enough to start an official investigation. But Leekie has made it clear that investigations can be snuffed out pretty easily. We'd need more. Something that would warrant not only an investigation, but an arrest. And we're just not ready to compromise our cover. If we went in with what we have now, he'd figure out that we both know and that we've been looking into it, you know?"

"Yeah, that's tricky. What about–"

"Hey," Beth interrupts as she makes her entry, panting. "You said you had a guy…" she throws her keys on the table and stands next to Art, catching her breath. "A guy back in the states. Following you, trying to off you?"

I realize she's talking to me. "Euh, yes. Why?"

"Some greasy guy just stopped me, asking where my girlfriend is. After he noticed that I don't really look like you, I'm assuming," she nods at Cosima, "I mean, as much as I can look different…I think he realized he got the wrong person and just apologized and left".

"Not Sarah's guy?" Art asks. Beth shakes her head.

"Did he have a ponytail?" I ask, hoping the answer is a hard no.

"Yes," Beth answers right away. Dammit.

"Well, great," I sigh. Cosima puts her hand on my forearm. "I guess your last appointment with him didn't buy us much time after all".

"Apparently not," Cosima exhales sharply. "Fuck".

"Appointment?" Beth asks.

"Yeah," Cosima replies before I can. "I was meeting with Leekie once a week instead of having a monitor. The first _official_ self-aware subject".

"He knew you knew?"

"Yep. After we got caught with those stolen profiles and Delphine went on the run, he did some damage control," Beth and Art listen while Cosima recants the whole story. I try not to pay attention to it. I focus all my attention on Cosima's hand, still resting on my arm.

It really wasn't that long ago that I would've smacked her hand away. Aside from the first few weeks or so of working with her, I never really disliked Cosima, but I did hate physical contact. It's probably why none of my relationships really worked out. I just wanted to be left alone. This thing we have, though, whatever it is between Cosima and I, it's different. I want her to touch me and I don't want to be away from her. And it's so odd to think about our relationship before – boss and assistant. I never would've expected us to be close in any way, especially the way we are now. Granted, we're only this close because of all the shit we had to go through, all the shit we're still going through. I can't even imagine my life without her now, though. And even though I'm being hunted, constantly looking over my shoulder for the next gunshot, I wouldn't change what happened between us. I wouldn't prefer a safe life, steady income, executive career, and everything I had over not knowing Cosima. Maybe it's stupid of me, irresponsible, rash, but I don't care anymore.

"Delphine?" Cosima calls quietly beside me. I notice Art and Beth have gotten up and are busying themselves in the kitchen.

"Sorry," I look at Cosima's thoughtful expression. "What's wrong?"

"I just…" she starts but shakes her head. "I think we should find someplace else to stay," she says quietly enough that she can't be heard from the kitchen.

"Somewhere else in Toronto, or somewhere else entirely?" I ask at the same volume.

"I don't know. I just feel like we're putting them in danger if we stay here. Their cover would be completely blown if Leekie found out we were here, hiding in their living room".

I nod. "I guess you're right. But where would we go? We'll run out of money eventually and Siobhan made it clear we can't stay with her. Not that we'd want to with Paul around".

"I don't know, Delphine," Cosima sighs and puts her head in her hands. "They've just helped us so much and shared so much…I don't want to be the reason they get burned, you know?"

"Hey," we both look up at Art, making his way back over to us with a couple plates of food. "You guys don't need to worry about that, okay? Beth and I have things under control for the most part".

"Yeah, man, we can see that," Cosima replies at a normal volume again. "But that doesn't mean things can't get fucked up quick. I just think we should at least stay somewhere else, you know?"

"I think that's a good idea," Beth says, entering the room and sitting down with her own plate. "It's not really your guys' fault, but you're a walking target. If we're going to beat this thing, we can't get our shit mixed together. Art and I can find somewhere safe for you to stay. Maybe we can get a safehouse location from the station?" she looks at Art questioningly. He shrugs and nods.

"Fine," Art agrees reluctantly. "Stay here tonight, and tomorrow when I go in, I'll look for a place".

"Thank you, guys, again," Cosima says. She always speaks with such sincerity. It's what makes her so compelling. How did I spend so much of our time together not paying attention?

* * *

Art is already gone when I wake up in the morning and I can hear Beth typing from the other room. When I turn to see if Cosima is awake yet, I find her space empty. I sit up quickly and look around the living room and kitchen but don't see her.

"You all good?" Beth says from the other room, pausing her typing.

"Yeah," Cosima responds in a hoarse voice. She rounds the corner from the hall back into the living room. "Hey, you're awake".

"Are you alright?" I'm about to get up, but she comes and lays back down next to me.

"I'm good. Just an hour and a half long coughing sesh," she responds tiredly with a smile. "No biggie".

"An hour and a half?" I wipe a few flecks of blood off her lip. "That's…"

"It's fine," she finishes, pulling my arm so I'll lay back down with her. I comply.

"You're getting worse," I say. She looks down and doesn't reply. "I don't like it".

"No shit?" she attempts a chuckle, but it turns into a couple seconds of light coughing. She's so pale.

"Hey," Beth gets our attention, entering the room and staring at her phone. "Art sent me an address for you guys. Empty safehouse. Not that close, but not on the other side of town".

"That's great. Are you sure it's alright we use it?" I ask, sitting up and helping Cosima do the same.

"Not really. It would be unofficial, and Art would get in trouble for it. But we've got bigger problems," she answers indifferently. Before I can express my hesitations, she continues, "I have to get to work here soon, so I'll lead you guys to the place now".

"Thanks again, Beth," Cosima says with a half-smile.

"Hey, what are clones for?" Beth jokes. Humor sounds so odd coming from her.

"Ha, shut up," Cosima smiles. I can tell she's restraining laughing, probably to stave off a cough.

"Anyways, you guys all set? Your shit is in your car, right?" Beth looks to Cosima. She nods. "Alright, let's go".

* * *

"It's really not that bad," Cosima comments after Beth leaves. The safehouse is a twenty-minute drive from Art and Beth's place – a little studio apartment on the fifth floor of a plain complex.

"It's free," I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed.

"You okay?" Cosima comes to sit next to me.

"I'm fine," I can hear the tremble in my voice. "Just…what are we even doing here? We can't really help their investigation. All we are at this point is a burden. We're just hiding. Waiting".

"There's not really much we can do," she takes my hand. "There's nowhere for us to go. We're not safe".

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Cosima," I glance down at our hands. I know it's not my fault that she decided to come with me, but I should've stopped her. She would've been safe.

"I forgive you for dragging me into this clone experiment business that I never would've been a part of if it weren't for you," she cocks her head at me. I guess she's right. This didn't really start with me.

"Ah, bon. Merci," I respond sarcastically.

She puts her head down, avoiding eye contact, and moves her hands to her lap to intertwine her fingers nervously. "Yeah…Well, anyways. I, uh…kind of love you, too, I think".

I slowly turn my head, beaming involuntarily. I can see her cheeks turning pink to match the bashful expression she's wearing. "Do you, now?" I say through my smile.

"No. Never mind, fuck you," she pushes my arm hard enough for me to fall back on the bed and then retreats to the bathroom. I just laugh.

"Cosima," I get up and stand in the doorway while she snoops through the bathroom cupboards. "How could you assault a gunshot victim like that?"

"Uh, I think that with the recent activities we've been partaking in, you've proven yourself to be healed enough to handle a gentle shove". She's trying to sound exasperated, but I can see the grin tempting her lips.

"Speaking of that," I saunter toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. "How will we occupy our time in this quiet, isolated apartment with only a bathroom and a bed?"

"Oh, you know," she starts quietly, stopping when she feels my lips on her neck. "Uh, bird watching?"

"The only window we have faces another building. No birds in sight," I slip my arms under her shirt and her hand comes up to hold onto my neck.

"There's plenty of time for me to teach you French then, I guess," I smile at her ongoing joke.

"Mmm," I mumble against her neck. "That sounds trop difficile pour moi". Cosima obediently turns when I push her waist and lets me guide her back against the counter.

"Uh, discuss philosophy?" I can feel the pulse in her neck when I return to occupying it.

"Not interested," I mumble against her skin again.

"There's always–" Cosima's next suggestion is cut off when my hand slides from her hip past the waist band of her sweatpants. I find her already well prepared. I don't understand how her readiness is such a turn-on for me. With men, the state of their _appendage_ was never very influential on my arousal.

"I really like feeling you," I comment, glancing up to her closed eyes and slightly parted lips.

"God, if someone had told me this is what our relationship would be like six months ago, I would've laughed in their face," she says airily. I smile at the thought. I was a completely different person six months ago. I was a completely different person three months ago. "Hey," Cosima gets my attention. She doesn't speak again until I look up at her, pausing my tasks. "I changed my mind. I do love you".

I beam brightly again. "You don't have to say that just because my hand is down your pants," I wiggle my fingers for emphasis.

Cosima rolls her eyes and pulls my hand back up to her waist. "I love you. Don't be a shithead".

I giggle like a child. She always makes me feel at least ten years younger than I am. "Okay, I won't. And I love you, too".

"Hey!"

Cosima and I both jump when the shout is succeeded by loud pounding on the front door. The voice is familiar.

"Hey, you two. Open this or–" the yelling is interrupted, and we hear talking right outside the door. The words are indistinguishable, but the calming voice we recognize right away. Cosima is the first to move toward the door.

"Hey, what's wro–" she tries to start, but doesn't get far before Beth is pushing her back inside the apartment.

"So, the first official self-aware clone is a fucking double agent?" the woman keeps pushing Cosima further inside, backing her up against the wall.

"What are you doing?" I try to intervene, but Beth turns toward me with a furious glaze covering her eyes.

"And you. What, you're just going to do whatever it takes to not have people following you anymore? Art and I put our lives in danger every day just going to fucking work. Christ. Is that why you conned us? God, you two are so fucking selfish, you know that? You think you're the only ones suffering from all of this bullshit?"

"Enough," we're all surprised by Art inserting himself in the rant and slamming the door shut behind him. "Beth, that's enough".

"No. No Art, not nearly enough. Everything is fucking destroyed, all of our work, because of them".

"We don't know it was them, Beth. Just calm down". Art puts his hands on her shoulders. She doesn't seem to become any less angry, but she at least stops yelling. "Let's talk".

"What the fuck?" Cosima scoffs and turns to sit on the edge of the bed.

"There was an incident," Art says, giving Beth a 'be quiet' look. "It looks like Leekie knows that we are building a case against him".

"We_ were_ building a case on him," Beth comments, crossing her arms. Art gives her another warning look.

"How do you know?" I ask, sitting on the bed next to Cosima and facing our company.

"Because I fucking–"

"_Because_," Art interrupts Beth again. She doesn't look happy about it. "When Beth stopped at home after getting you guys here, our place was torn up. Nothing was taken except for our box of collected research on Leekie. Aside from the very few documents I have in my desk at work, all of it is gone".

"Shit," Cosima says blankly. "Fuck. Well, why do you think it was us? We were either with you or locked here the entire time you were gone from your apartment," Cosima looks at Beth for the answer.

"Would'a been easy enough to make a quick call after I dropped you off. No one else knew about that box," she sneers back, but is visibly calming down.

"With what phone? Mine's been dead for days, I haven't even tried turning it on. Delphine's isn't even in this country". Now it's Cosima who is becoming angry. Their temper seems to be a common trait.

"I don't fucking know," Beth yells back, her calmness disappearing again.

"Hey," Art mediates again. "Beth, I really don't think they had anything to do with this. C'mon. I know you know that, too".

"No, I don't," she says through her teeth. Art pulls her in and wraps his arms over her shoulders. She doesn't reciprocate, but she doesn't push him away. "There's no other option. There's no other way this could've happened. And either way, this all started when they showed up".

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. We have to keep moving forward, Beth. We'll figure it out," Art squeezes her tighter and we can hear a light sniffle from Beth.

"I know this isn't at all helpful," Cosima says softly, "But we had nothing to do with this. I swear. We're on your guys' side, not Leekie's".

Art nods and Beth stays silent.

A light knock at the door catches everyone's attention. No one moves. Art looks at me and shrugs his shoulders questioningly. I shake my head. Beth is the first to move, silently making her way to the door and looking through the peephole.

"No one. Must have left," she whispers and then looks back at the door. Art shakes his head and makes his way over to her. She nods, and he opens the door slowly. All we see is an empty hallway.

There's one deafening gunshot before Art and Beth both jump to aim their guns. I see a hole in the front door, half a foot away from where Beth is standing. Art peeks his head out the corner and takes one shot. There's a loud thud and then scurrying footsteps before the emergency exit alarm sounds and the large metal door at the end of the hallway slams shut.

"You see him?" Beth asks calmly. She's calmer now than she was five minutes ago when she first got here and started yelling at us.

"Ponytail guy is persistent. He doesn't know how to shoot, does he?" Art responds.

"No, he got the inside of my thigh from a short distance," I say pointing to the injury. "And my shoulder was an accidental fire".

"Fucking idiot," Beth rolls her eyes.

"I just got his leg, he'll be back," Art warns, holstering his gun. "We need to come up with a plan".

Everyone sighs simultaneously.

* * *

"This isn't going to fucking work," Cosima complains from the passenger seat.

"Well we have to try something. What do we have to lose?" I look at the rear-view mirror and see the two brooding expressions on Art and Beth, following closely behind us.

"I'd be more distracted from my miseries if I was driving…" she hints, once again.

"And I'd like to arrive in one piece," I smile back at her. Before we left the city, we had to switch places because of Cosima's cough and its growing frequency.

"You'd like to arrive in one piece, just to be riddled with bullets when we get there?" she goes back to staring at the window and biting her nails. I don't answer her. I know it's just her way of expressing her fears of this situation, but I'm scared, too.

* * *

"I'm getting nervous," Cosima looks at me. I give her a half-smile that probably provides little to no comfort.

"We still have, like, five hours," Beth responds from the gas pump next to us, hanging the nozzle back up.

"That's a lot less than fifteen," Cosima returns. It seems they're getting along better for some reason. I look at Art, coming out of the gas station with a plastic bag.

"We ready?" he asks, handing Beth a canned coffee beverage. She nods, cracking it open. I nod, too, with another half-smile. "Alright, here," he hands us the bag once he takes another can for himself and a few snacks. "I don't know what you guys like".

"You're my new favorite person," Cosima says, grabbing an energy drink and taking a large gulp. Art chuckles and gets back in the passenger seat. Beth waves and holds up the little envelope with our key cards before starting her car and driving back across the street to the little motel we stayed in last night to check us out.

"Don't like me anymore?" I smile at Cosima, hanging up the nozzle to our pump.

"I don't know, Delphine. When was the last time you bought me something so thoughtful?" She takes another large drink and flips me off.

"Hey, it's not like you've bought me anything thoughtful. I'd say we're still even," I cross my arms at her.

"Ugh," she gasps, dramatically clutching her chest. "I bought you a cactus," she says in a theatrical voice before getting back in the car.

* * *

"Okay, it's coordinated for the most part. Kind of," Beth says, exiting the Minneapolis police station nearest to Dyad. "They at least know what's going on. Kind of…". Art follows Beth back into their car, nodding at us on the way.

Cosima gets in the driver's seat, but I don't argue this time. "_Kind of_ wish we at least knew what was going on, aside from _me_ being the main attraction," she mumbles, buckling her seatbelt and starting the engine.

"It's hard to plan for anything when you don't have all the variables," I reply. It's not like we can predict anything when we're going into an unknown situation with a last-minute plan, she knows that.

"Yeah, well I just don't like being the star of a show that barely has a plot and absolutely no script," Cosima pulls out onto the main road in front of Art and Beth. We're only about ten minutes from Dyad.

"You'll be a great star," I smile, trying to lighten her mood before we ambush the puppet master. "And I've never known anyone better at making up a monologue on the spot. You don't need a plot or a script. I mean, would you even follow it if there was one?"

"Shut up," she shoves me lightly. I think she knows how much I love it. Her and her silly shoving. I have no earthly idea why, but I do.

"I hope he's still there. It's four twenty-five already. I don't want to wait until tomorrow".

"I know he leaves early on Fridays," Cosima ponders with me. "But I think he stays past five most other days. We'll be good. I just hope he's in his office," we turn onto the final street. I can see Dyad just a few blocks ahead.

"Cosima," I say, only now starting to feel the rising apprehension – far stronger than the vague anxiety that's plagued me for the last month and a half. "You should try to get some information on the cure or something".

"How?" she scoffs, pulling into the parking lot.

"I don't know. But if this works at all, we may never have a chance to get it. Not if he's in prison. And you're getting worse".

"I prefer to think of it as getting better at being sick. But yeah, I could try," Cosima finally turns off the car when we're in the visitor parking next to Art and Beth. "Actually…that could be my shtick".

I look at her, confused, but I have no time to ask since Beth is knocking on her window. Cosima rolls it down.

"Hey, Art is going to go with you, okay?" Cosima nods. "I think it would be a bad idea if I went in there. But I'll stay in the parking lot and wait for the signal to call MPD. You stay down here with me," she orders, looking to me for confirmation.

"I–"

"It'll be fine," Cosima interrupts before I can argue. We're running out of time.

"Meet me by the front doors when you two are done chatting," Beth says exasperatedly. "Cosima still needs to get set up," she walks away. I wish I had a cigarette.

"It's going to be fine," Cosima soothes. Again, she is the one putting herself in danger and I'm the one being comforted. However, it's nice to see her a bit calmer.

I shake my head, unwilling to argue, but also unwilling to accept. Cosima just shrugs her shoulders. I take one last glance at Beth, waiting by the entrance, and then turn to kiss Cosima goodbye. I just pray that it's a 'goodbye for now' kiss.

"Okay, you go with Art. Be good," I say, trying to gain some semblance of normalcy for both our sakes.

"You too. Try to not piss off Beth".

Cosima gives me one last peck before leaving to have Art set her up with whatever devices they brought. I sigh, push my hair to the other side, and get out to keep Beth company. It feels very strange to be back, and so much stranger to be parked in the visitor parking lot as if we're just making a casual stop.

"Hey," Beth greets.

"Hi," I lean against the building next to her and we silently watch what looks like Art getting frisky with Cosima in the backseat of his car.

"We should've done this before we got here," Beth comments. I see she's grinning at the awkward expressions we can barely make out through the windows.

"She would have broken it on the way over, I'm sure," I say and Beth snorts. Just like Cosima does sometimes. "What is it, anyway?"

"The wire? Just a basic recording device. Art will still be in there, but by the way you described the layout of his floor, he won't be close enough to hear for himself. It's always good to have a recording anyways".

"How much does she need to get?" Art and Cosima get out of the car finally. Cosima offers him a fist bump. He rolls his eyes before accepting.

"Just as much as she can. We don't have jurisdiction here, so it'll be up to your guys' authorities whether something is enough for a warrant or not. I doubt she'll get enough for an arrest".

"Alright," Art says, both of them finally approaching us. "We're ready. You got your phone?" Beth nods. "Kay. Be careful. Stay over there," he points to the side of the building that leads to employee parking. "Find a blind spot if you can just in case he has live feed and a gunman handy. The visitor parking has full coverage surveillance. Stay out here".

"Yep. Go," Beth instructs impatiently. I'm half thankful for it, but half irritated by it. The sooner they go, the sooner they can come back. But the sooner they go, the less time I have with Cosima before she possibly gets hurt or killed up there.

"See you soon. Don't freak out," Cosima winks at me. Art leads the way inside and Beth and I head to the side of the building, away from the entrance. Cosima looks back once at me and mouths 'I love you'.

"This isn't going to fucking work," I say when we finally reach our post, my frustrations getting the better of me. We're directly under the only camera in the employee parking. The blind spot, I'm assuming.

"Don't worry. She's got Art with her. He's a good cop," Beth replies rather apathetically.

* * *

"For Christ's sake, Delphine. Calm down," Beth scolds.

"I can't help it, I'm anxious," I reply. In most other situations I would stop tapping my foot if someone was bothered by it, but right now I'm too worked up to care.

"It's been . . . twelve minutes. It's a big building," she consoles in a combative tone.

"Alright bitch," a familiar man walks around the corner and looks at me, sending chills down my spine. "Let's try this one more time".


	11. Gunshots

"See you soon. Don't freak out," I say with a wink before following Art into Dyad.

The spacious lobby is relatively busy for this time of day. It takes us a couple minutes just to make it to the elevators. Everybody in my lab leaves well before five, so we don't run into anyone.

"How're you feeling?" Art asks once we're on the elevator. I press the button next to the fancy golden three.

"Like I haven't had a joint in a while," I'm starting to feel my nerves creep up further. I've been nervous this entire time, obviously, but the nausea is making an appearance now.

"I'll get you one myself after this is done. I'll owe you," he smiles at me.

"Yeah, a cop is going to buy me weed. I totally believe that," the elevator dings and we take a step out. Neither of us move any further, though. The doors close behind us.

"Ready?" Art whispers.

"No," I say with a sigh before turning the corner and starting down the hall. Art gets to stay by the elevators. Lucky bastard.

Leekie is in his office, turned away from me, though, tinkering with his science toys. But, as it seems fate instructs, my throat starts to tickle and tingle. I hold off for as long as I can, but that only means a couple more steps.

I don't know why I always think that I can simply clear my throat and the feeling will go away. The noise echoes through the empty hallway. Leekie takes his time before turning around to watch me wheeze. He looks surprised, but only mildly. It's the same look Delphine always gave me back when I was her assistant whenever I actually showed up on time – or early. Okay, never _early_. I'm a couple feet from his door when I gesture toward it, coughing into my elbow. He nods and finds his way to the desk.

"Feeling better?" he says in a tone. If I had any doubt that he knew where I was before, it's gone now.

"No, actually," I stay standing. "I'm getting a lot worse. Fast".

He nods. "It wasn't unexpected. How is Dr. Cormier doing?"

It's been some time since I've heard her called Dr. Cormier. It's odd, especially since it wasn't that long ago that I couldn't imagine calling her anything else. "She's not great. Otherwise she would've been here to do this with me".

"And what is it that you've come to do? Kill me?" He leans back in his chair as though execution doesn't bother him in the least.

"No, no. Of course not. I came here…to beg you," I squeeze out between a few coughs.

"Beg me? For what exactly?"

"Delphine's safety. I want you to stop trying to have her killed," I pause and gauge his reaction. For an egotistical idiot with the upper hand, he isn't reacting much. "And the cure…" This is such a long shot, I'm realizing. I'm going to be killed right here. This was a bad idea.

"You think you can just come in my office, ask nicely, and I would hand it over?" He smiles at me darkly.

"Yeah, that's where the begging part comes in," I take as deep a breath I can manage. "I'll do anything. Seriously. Like, I heard how Beth got it. I can do stuff like that. And I'll make sure Delphine doesn't say anything. We can leave the country if you want. I wouldn't risk telling anyone else and put their lives in danger." I'm running out of shit to say. I never run out of shit to say. Delphine had more confidence in me than she should've. Honestly, a joint probably would've helped me out here.

"Why on Earth would I trust that, Cosima?" he chuckles and crosses his arms.

"Because I'm desperate," I shout back, earning myself a brief cough that nearly chokes me. At least it works to my advantage here. "Delphine is scared straight. She won't cross you, not when she knows the consequences are very real. And I'm fucking dying apparently, so I don't care what I have to do, just fucking tell me and I'll do it". He looks at me like a child having a temper tantrum and even though it's all an act, I still feel the genuine rage of a temper tantrum.

"You know, it was only by chance that we discovered you would all become ill. Just a little mistake in the sequence. Didn't take long to find a treatment for everyone. But then I realized how convenient it would be if you all just…went away," he smiles eerily like he's thinking of a good memory. "We didn't have the resources to keep the whole thing going for sixty-plus years. Without the monitoring system to keep track and guide you away from one another, the world would eventually discover you, your lives would be dissected and it would turn the whole project to shit - any future data would be useless. Not to mention, if it came back on Dyad, we'd all go to jail, or at least our careers would be destroyed. So, the illness...I wouldn't have to pay someone to kill you when it eventually needed doing. Why would I want to keep you alive, make more trouble for myself? I mean, do you know how many of you are dead already?" I don't know any of these girls, but my heart is still breaking just hearing their fates.

"I can be of use to you, can't I? If you want someone to do shitty things, I'm a good person for it. No one suspects me - a short, weak girl - of anything, I'm charming, and I really don't have that strong a moral compass. Like, I don't fucking care about this whole illegal experiment you have going on. I think it's pretty cool. I mean, clones? That's awesome. And it would be such a waste to stop the study now after everything that's been put into it. The money, all the monitors, the terminations, the data…". I try to guide the conversation into a more incriminating area. We were on the right track, he was boasting just like we'd hoped. And listening to him go on about his glory is better than being assassinated in his office.

His phone buzzes briefly and he answers a text before responding. "I believe that. You're a scientist, of course you're interested. Anyone would be interested, it's revolutionary study. It will change the way we all look at the human race, genetics, diseases, psychology," he says, thinking about something. I can't believe I'm not dead yet. "But I don't have any dirty deeds that need doing at the moment. You have no leverage here, Cosima". He's cracking, I can tell. He's looking for an excuse to brag about his genius - spill the whole thing. I honestly think he's already said enough, but I want to get it all now. I want him to go straight to prison - a full confession.

"Give me the cure now and I'll do whatever you want when it comes up. Seriously, whatever–"

"Hold on," Leekie puts his finger up to shush me while he answers his phone. "What is it? … Yes, by all means. Get it done … I don't care," he hangs up the phone and shakes his head at it, but then smiles ominously.

"Um, so…"

"Cosima, I'll be honest here. I don't like you. You're nosy, hyper-inquisitive, a know-it-all, irritating as all hell. And I'd rather just kill you now, here, myself than continue the conversation," his eyes squint.

"But…but you don't do the dirty work. You have someone else do the killing part," I'm not actually sure if Leekie would kill me here. Maybe he has some kind of secret chute to throw me down without me ever having to leave the room. I wish Art were closer.

"I remember a monitor of yours who needed dismissing – _Shay_. She wasn't effective and she was getting on my nerves. Here's the thing, though: Shay didn't need to go. She would've easily been paid off or threatened. It probably would've been easier. Maybe even cheaper, after the cost of a hit-man, cleanup, all that," he ponders for a second, but then looks back to me with an exhale. "No, Cosima. I wanted to kill her. So, do you think I'd have any problem with plucking one of your kind out of the situation?" He's going to kill me. He wouldn't be sharing all of this if he wasn't completely confident it wouldn't leave the room. This part isn't about his incredible study – it's the shady business.

"My kind?" I try to prompt, but he only nods. "You mean, uh, clones?" Goddammit – he just nods again. "The illegal human cloning trials that you've been running for almost three decades now?"

"Yes, Cosima. Those are the ones," he finally answers verbally, a little exasperated. But now I don't know what to say back. I don't know how to continue this. How do I drag it out? I don't fucking want to drag it out, but I can feel my death becoming more and more imminent. The way he talked about hit-men, the whole process, he was so familiar with it, so comfortable.

"So, the cure?" I attempt again.

Dr. Leekie gets up from his chair, pauses to check a message on his phone, and then looks over to sigh at me. "The cure," he walks toward the back of the room, near the filing cabinets.

"Maybe I could buy it from you. Just enough for me?"

"Ha," he feigns a guffaw. "You'd never be able to afford it".

"You don't know that. Maybe I have a lot saved up…"

"Well, I know that's not true. I monitor your financial situation. How do you think I found out where you were this past week?"

"I thought Art and Sarah's boyfriend told you?"

"Paul? Did you see him?" The man faces one of the glass-door refrigerators in the back.

"Kind of. He was following us," I try to peek around him to see what has his attention over this.

"Well that is disappointing," he sighs then opens the refrigerator.

"Dr. Leekie," I try not to sound too irritated with him, but it's hard. "At least stop your guy from killing Delphine. Please," I beg. He doesn't even turn his head.

"I will give no more orders on her life, Cosima," he finally relents. I don't believe him, smiling ominously, but he takes a glass vial off the small refrigerator shelf and starts speaking again before I can question it. "Do you know what this is?"

"No, I don't," I let my head hang in exhaustion, giving up the act for a moment since he's turned the other way. "Delphine always figured it was fruit juice," I can't help a short chuckle. He doesn't seem to take it well.

"Well, let me enlighten you," he holds it up and closes the little glass door. Bringing it closer to his eyes, he starts to read off the label, "Contains eight doses to be administered intravenously. Subject Tag: 324B21".

"That's it? It's in there?" I am genuinely surprised. I guess no one is going to come waltzing in here thinking the cure is not-so-hidden in the back of the room next to the filing cabinet of full profiles. But seriously…does he have no security whatsoever for these things? "So, does that mean you're going to let me have it or you're going to kill me now?"

"I'm more of a two-birds-one-stone kind of guy," he comments, holding the little glass tube by just his thumb and index finger, preparing to drop it to the floor. The light from the fridge is casting demonic shadows on his features – the small bit of his face that I can still see since he hasn't bothered turning around.

"No, please," I hear the sincere desperation in my shout, and Leekie chuckles. The smile grows on his face, elongating the shadows.

"Put your hands up," Dr. Leekie and I both turn at the sudden booming voice behind us. It's Art, his gun pointed at Leekie. Three more police officers are making their way down the hall quickly.

"No problem," the old man says, smiling devilishly. He lets go of the vial as he brings his other hand up and turns around fully to face everyone.

"No," I shout again, involuntarily reaching out as if I could will it to fall right into my hands. When I initially entered this office, I had no hope of revealing the cure, but now that it's only feet away, I can't just let it go.

The vial drops quickly, hitting the side of the man's leg before finishing its journey. However, as it hits the ground, it only cracks. There's no dark liquid covering the floor or shattered glass shards.

"Aldous Leekie, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," Art crosses the room and pulls one of Leekie's hands behind his back.

Dr. Leekie lets Art handcuff him, but when he realizes the tube didn't meet its demise, he starts to stomp at it. Art pulls him away before he can get close enough and the vial rolls under his desk. I dive for it urgently, but Dr. Leekie puts his foot on my shoulder and shoves me backward. My head hits the side of his desk hard and the world goes dark.

* * *

"Cosima?" I hear Art's muffled voice call and feel my shoulder being shaken. My eyes squint open. I'm still on the floor. "You okay?"

"How long did, uh, was I–"

"Thirty seconds tops," Art answers before I can get the rest of the question out. I prop myself up and see Leekie at the end of the hallway being led by his arm by an officer. The crackling radio voices from the array of officers' fancy cop walkie-talkies is intruding my ears.

"Is it…over?"

"Well, this part is at least. Can't say what's actually going to happen to him or the rest of this crap," Art motions around the office.

"Shit, that reminds me – where'd that thing go?" I scramble onto my hands and knees, shoving my arm under the desk. I don't need to stretch far before I feel the cold glass tube.

"What is it?" Art asks, taking my other hand to help me up.

"He said it's the treatment, like the same Beth got," Art leads the way down the hall.

"Think it's real?" He takes his phone out and dials Beth's number.

"I hope it is".

"Hey Beth. Cosima just – Oh yeah, yeah that's fine," Art tries to glance sneakily at me throughout the conversation, but it's not so sneaky. "We'll head over there then after I talk with the local PD".

"Head over where?" I ask once he hangs up.

"Everything's fine, but, uh . . . I didn't call for backup, Beth did".

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean, Art," I'm getting a bit frustrated. And I have a headache. At least I'm not dead, though. That's a plus.

"Hold on," he says, flagging down an officer and jogging over to her. They only talk for a second before Art gives her his card and walks back to me. "Alright, let's go".

"Go where?"

"The hospital. Delphine was shot. Again".

* * *

"Ugh," I growl, squirming in the scratchy cushion chair. "It's been three hours".

"Cosima, that means she hasn't died. Surgery takes some time," Beth snaps back. I wish Art would've stayed with me instead of her. Although, her comment does bring me some ease. She hasn't died. Yet.

"Hey," Art greets, returning to the waiting room. "They're searching his office now and I just finished some of basic reports. We'll need to go back to their station later, though".

"Where's Leekie?" I ask with the same angry tone that's been invading my voice for the last three and a half hours.

"Custody. He could still make bail, but we'll be notified if that happens. How's Delphine?"

"Still in surgery," I sigh and slouch back in the chair.

"Good, good. She's lucky to be alive. Just missed her heart," he sighs, too. He's right. They both are. I need to be grateful she's alive.

"Elizabeth Childs?" A woman in gray scrubs enters the waiting room.

"Hi," Beth gets up to meet the nurse. "Oh, these two are with me. Cop. Girlfriend," she nods towards me and Art. Art flashes his badge quickly. The nurse seems hesitant but leads us all back to an office.

"Hello, Ms. Childs. And are you the husband?" Another woman, this time in a familiar long white jacket, reaches to shake Art's hand from behind her desk.

"No. We're the officers leading the investigation," he lies. "This is Delphine's partner," Art gestures to me.

"Cosima, hi. How is she?"

We all sit down – Art and Beth on a small couch, and me in a matching armchair. "She is stable. It looks like we were able to remove all the fragments and nothing vital was hit. She'll need to stay for a while and no visitors until tomorrow morning. She should wake up within the next couple days".

* * *

I pace the hall in front of Delphine's room. They're only just now replacing the Halloween decorations for Thanksgiving ones – eleven days into November. I don't know why it bothers me. Everything bothers me these days. I've learned all the nurses' names. They all know me. I'm usually so likeable, friendly, talkative, but the last two days have been silent for me. Delphine still wears a breathing mask. She hasn't even twitched.

After Art told me about the incident, I realize that I was sort of a witness to it. Beth shot the ponytail guy in his shoulder less than a second after he shot Delphine. He gave Leekie up without hesitance, anything to spare his life, and showed Beth the texts on his phone:

_Spotted cormier. Clear shot. She still a go?_

_Yes. If you manage to actually kill her this time, you might just get your job back_

It must have been that text he was smiling at so suspiciously. It would also explain why he was so willing to agree to stopping orders on her head. She was already shot at that point and that's why Beth called for backup. I feel so stupid. I know that there was no way I could have known, but I just feel like a fool.

I finish my evening walk around the block and return to Delphine's bedside. They're letting me use the visitors' chair as a makeshift bed for myself. I don't think I'm even allowed to stay here. Returning to the waiting room after visiting her in the ICU the day after her surgery was too much, even if she was released from intensive care by the evening. As soon as she was moved to a bed outside the ICU, I claimed my territory. She doesn't even have any family. I realize that I'm all she has here.

I pull my chair up next to her bed and take her hand. I haven't really slept, but at night I'll keep her hand hostage while I drift in and out of consciousness. The hours pass by and all I can think about is how her hand doesn't move.

Thursday morning greets me with my favorite nurse and a plump police officer. I don't recognize him, and he doesn't say a word to me, he may not even know I'm in the room. He just sits right outside the door.

"Hey," I hear a familiar voice and lift my head from the arm rest of my chair. "You get my text?"

"Art," I greet tiredly. "Uh, no. I don't know where my phone is. I think it's still dead anyways. What is it?"

"Leekie made bail, which we expected. But he slipped his tail," he explains.

"I have no idea what you just said," I sit up when I see Beth entering the room after talking with the officer outside.

"The tail we put on him, the officer following him…Leekie managed to lose him. We don't know where he is, and we're just nervous that–"

"Leekie's got revenge in mind. It's probably his personal vendetta now just to kill you both," Beth steps in to cut through the sugary coating Art was about to sell me. "We need to get her moved and–"

"Cosima," Beth is cut off just like she cut off Art. To my surprise, Sarah walks in the room, "Cosima, they took her".

"No!" I shout as soon as I see the man following her into the room. "Sarah, that man is…he's not who you think he is," I get up, instinctually defending Delphine with my body as a pathetic little barrier.

"It's not what you think," Paul tries to explain. Art and Beth also move to defend Delphine. "Cosima," he attempts to make me listen.

"No. Out," I point toward the door.

"Cosima?" Everyone is saying my name today. This time, however, it's music to my ears.

"Delphine, you're awake. How are you feeling?" I ignore everything else and rush back to her side. All she does is grimace and shake her head.

"You must be, uh…" Sarah's accent sounds so gruff even though she's speaking quietly. I don't turn to see the interaction.

"Beth, hi. He can't be here," Beth takes over my defense. Delphine seems to fall back asleep. It doesn't scare me as much now, though.

"You don't understand," Paul interjects again. "I'm on your side".

"He told me everything," Sarah clarifies.

"Was that before or after you chased them down through the streets and into the station?" Art's question makes me turn. I've never heard him so angry. Despite his strong voice, he's always been rather docile.

"_Before_. I wasn't trying to kill either of you. I was trying to help," I look at Paul, close up. His face is exactly how I remembered it.

"It was after he met Kira," Sarah adds softly.

"I already had the feeling I should tell her," Paul continues. "But after I met that little girl, I had to. I was supposed to gather intel on her, confirm whether she was actually Sarah's or not. I knew what Leekie would've done if I gave him that".

"He's on our side," Sarah interrupts harshly. "That's what's important. But we're here because Kira is gone. We need help. Leekie had to have taken her".

"When did she go missing?" Art and Beth ask simultaneously.

"Last night sometime. We drove down as soon as we heard what happened. I left you a message, Cos. She must've been taken from the hotel. We went to bed and she was there beside me, but when I woke up, she was gone". Tears start flowing down Sarah's cheeks and Paul pulls her into his arms.

"Did you report her missing?" Beth asks in a tone softer than I've ever heard from her. It's weird.

"Of course. But this isn't an ordinary lost child case, is it?" Sarah snaps back.

"Look, we've got problems, too. Leekie is out of custody and no one knows where he is".

"I bet you anything he has Kira," Paul asserts, staring at Art. The way he's so protective of Sarah, I can't help but trust him. It could all be an act, though. "He could easily find out where Delphine is. He'd come straight here. If he's distracted long enough, we could try to find her. He's got GPS tracking in his car. We could–"

"You're not using Delphine as fucking bate, dude," I sneer.

"Bate for what?" Delphine's raspy voice grabs my attention.

"My daughter is missing, and we think Leekie has her. If he's on his way here, we'll have a better chance of finding her. Plus, you'd be able to detain him, right?" Sarah summarizes. I've never really been angry at her before, but there's a first for everything. Rage is building quickly inside my gut.

"Okay," Delphine agrees. "I want to help, and I can't do much but lay here. Let me help".

"But–" I try to argue.

"We don't have time to move her anyways. Not now. Leekie is in the building," Beth shows her phone screen to Art and then me. It's a text from an unsaved number – a photo of Leekie talking with reception. "We can't arrest him for anything yet. He's out on bail and he hasn't done anything to warrant arrest".

"Is there no fucking restraining order or some shit?" I shout. The room is buzzing with anxiety.

"I don't think so, but I'm not sure," Beth puts her hair up and checks her gun.

"Cosima, what's his car look like?" Sarah checks down the halls. Delphine's room is at the end of two perpendicular hallways, right on the corner next to the nurses' station.

"Uh…uh, I can't remember," the pressure is making it impossible to think. "I think it's black. Like, expensive and shiny maybe?"

"I would recognize it if I see it," Paul nods. "I'm coming with you". Sarah nods and gives me a tight hug before scurrying down the north corridor with Paul. I see a gun stuffed in the back of his pants and can't help the twinge of concern for Sarah. This could still be a trap.

The officer stationed outside the room gives us all a funny look when Paul and Sarah race down the hall, letting the door fly open violently.

"Leekie is in the building," he awkwardly informs us.

"Yes, which floor? Where is he?" Art steps outside to gather more information.

"We don't have anyone in the security office, so we don't have access to their cameras. He's not in the lobby anymore, I know that".

"Get to security, then," Beth orders. The man jumps at her sudden bark, looks to Art for confirmation, and then gets up to jog down the same hallway Paul and Sarah left through.

"Where are the elevators," I ask once Beth and Art are back in the room, closing the door behind them.

"The elevators are down that hallway," Beth points to the north hall. "But the stairs are at the other end, just around the corner down there," she points to the west hall. "Do you happened to know his preference?"

"Stairs, I think," Delphine answers. I almost forgot she was awake. Her voice is still small and tired.

"He's going to take a shot, Art," Beth reminds him blatantly. He looks back at me and Delphine apologetically.

"Think he's armed?" Art asks a little quieter.

"I'd be surprised if he isn't," Beth checks out the small window on the door again.

"Alright, you stay by her door and I'll be at the end of the hall. As soon as he comes around that corner, I'll detain or disarm him". Art takes his phone out and calls the local police department. We don't really have any proof of a threat, though. He's just in the building, it's not like he's shot at someone yet or done anything wrong.

"Cosima," Beth gets my attention. "I know your instinct is to stay here with Delphine, but–"

"But nothing. I'm not leaving her," I don't give her a chance to finish.

"I'll be outside her room the whole time. I have a gun and Art will be right there when he steps onto this floor. I need you to make sure we limit damage. If he's looking for vengeance, if he's bold enough to evade the police to come to the hospital where Delphine is admitted, I doubt he'd take much precaution with who he shoots at, and we can't have people getting in the way of us either".

"Well, what am I supposed to do about that?" I know I sound bitchy and selfish, but whatever.

"Looks like the halls are mostly clear, patients are in their rooms, but I need you to keep the staff contained. Just behind that desk would be fine," she nods toward the nurses' station where five or six staff are busying themselves, ignorant to the impending situation. "Art will send over whoever he finds in the hall, but you just need to keep them calm. We've already called for help". This seems like such an unnecessary task. Is she seriously asking this of me?

"Wait, you want me to stay over there with them? Hell no, I'm not leaving–"

"Cosima," Delphine touches my arm. It looks like a lot of effort. "I'll be fine. You'll be safer there. If we're in the same room, he'll kill us both. Go. At least one of us needs to live through this".

I feel the blood drain from my face. She's right, I know, I get it. But the way she's talking about her death like this…I'm going to faint from stress alone. Everything is so close to happening, too, so I can't even employ proper denial techniques. It's going down now. And honestly, I think Beth just wants me out. I'd be in the way somehow. But I could also be much more help in the room. The staff will know to not wander the halls when there's some crazy old guy with steam whistling from his ears.

"Now, Cosima," Beth orders firmly. I nod reluctantly and give Delphine a quick kiss before scurrying out the door to the circular nurses' station. I immediately shush everyone, stepping behind the desk on one of its open sides. Briefly explaining the situation, I crouch down with everyone and then turn back to peek at the room.

Beth is standing in front of the door, both hands holding her gun, pointed at the floor for now. Art walks out of Delphine's room after a moment and squeezes Beth's arm as he passes. A couple seconds later, two more staff jog back to the large desk from the other open side. Art must have sent them. I look back at my group. There's just one doctor, the rest are nurses. Shouldn't there be security guards around?

"It's going to be okay, guys," I whisper. Only a few people turn to look at me. "Help is on the way and none of you are the target". There are some nods, slight relief on some faces, and some shifting as we all wait in silence. The only sounds are beeping monitors and the ticking of the clock on the wall above us. I didn't realize how much the squeaking of shoes, chatter, carts being rolled, items being moved, all of it added to the noise level.

A quiet ding is followed by a deafening gunshot.

Everyone behind the counter gasps softly.

"Beth!" Art yells, echoing through the hall. I hear his shoes thumping against the floor.

I peek my head out again, only slightly, to see what happened, but pull myself back just in time to see Dr. Leekie marching down the hall from the elevators with a handgun. He doesn't even look in my direction, but right as he's passing the nurses' station, he lifts his gun again, aiming toward Art.

With a large amount of energy and courage I don't really possess, I feel myself automatically hopping to my feet, and then lunging toward him. Initially, the goal was to get to his gun, point it somewhere else, knock it out of his hand, but I just end up jumping on his back. He staggers for a moment and I hear Art's footsteps getting closer. I look over Leekie's shoulder and wonder why the fuck Art won't just shoot him, but then I see his holster is empty. I think back to when Sarah and Paul were leaving…that gun in the back of Paul's pants. Goddammit. I'm going to find Sarah fucking dead now, too. God fucking dammit.

Leekie grabs ahold of my arm and I'm weightless for a second before my body slams into the side of the desk I was just hiding behind. My glasses skid across the cold floor, lost to my eyes. When I turn my head toward my assailant, all I can make out are the two bodies of Art and Dr. Leekie. Art kicks him somewhere on his leg, but the old man stays standing, gun raised high in his hand. The insane rampage fueling this old man can somehow overpower a trained cop.

The hand with the gun drops down forcefully, bashing into Art's head. He staggers, but only for a moment before Leekie repeats the motion and Art falls to the ground, motionless. With his body flat on the floor, I can see Beth on the other side of him, a few feet away from the door, clutching her stomach. The speckled white tiles have all turned red around her blur of a body. I try to sit up, but my arm fails, the jolts of pain immobilizing it. I broke something. I don't know what, but I broke something.

I glance up at Leekie, catching his breath, about ten feet from my limp body. However, when the man starts walking again, straight towards Delphine's room, I use every other muscle in my body to get myself up.

He steps inside the room, and not two seconds later, two gunshots ring through the air, one right after the other. I can barely make out a shattering sound through the temporary deafness his shots give me. But I can also make out the abrupt halt of an incessant, but hopeful beeping. Her monitor goes silent. I feel half of my mind numbing, the other half focusing on Leekie, still inside the room somewhere.

I stumble to the closest wall, using it for support as I step over the two bleeding bodies of my newest friends. Beth is still groaning, and Art is just passed out. They'll be okay. I grab Beth's gun, ready to finish this fight. Just before I turn to find the evil man who caused all of this, and enter Delphine's room, I see a whole group of police officers file out of the elevator and around the corner from the stairs. I need to get to Leekie before they arrest him. He won't go to prison. His operation may fail, the whole experiment gone to shit, but he has resources. He'll be out of the country before they can finish listing his crimes.

I finally turn, swinging Delphine's door open the rest of the way, but trip and fall immediately over a large object on the floor. I cry out against my will when I land on top of my already injured arm, Beth's gun skidding across the floor just as my glasses had before. My head hits the hard, cold floor and I feel the terror ripping through my body, only for a moment, as it realizes I'm going to pass out.

* * *

"Is she alright?" I hear faintly. It's Delphine's voice, which is good news. It means I'm dead, but if Delphine's here, it also means I'm in Heaven. Very unexpected. I was expecting the afterlife to be a little warmer for me…

Although, this could be Hell. I hurt all over and I'm blind, everything is dark. Whenever I try to move, I can't seem to get anywhere, and it only hurts more. Dammit, maybe this is Hell. Why would Delphine be here, then? Oh, I guess she was pretty bitchy when I first met her. Does that warrant Hell, though? Actually, it's not like I've done anything spectacularly evil. Why do I have to be in Hell, too?

Wait a second. If I'm a clone, I shouldn't be in Heaven or Hell. Is this Clone Hell? What is Delphine doing in my Clone Hell?

"Please lay back down, miss. Stay in your bed," an unfamiliar voice orders. This one is closer. "She's got a pulse, she's moving".

I'm just now noticing a pressure on my neck. Unconsciously, my hand moves to swat it away. The mission is a success, but now I feel the different types of pain differentiating throughout my body. My side is sore, my wrist feels like it's being stabbed, and my head is pounding. There's a vibration in my stomach and throat as my body complains with a croaky groan.

"Cosima," Delphine voice shouts again.

"Miss, please remain in your bed," I crack my eyes open slightly and see a nurse kneeling over me but staring harshly in another direction. I stretch my neck to see what he's looking at.

"Delphine," I shout back weakly. Although I can't really see, I know it's Delphine laying in the bed. It looks like we're still in the hospital. A shove the nurse away from me and get to my feet. It hurts like hell and I'm dizzy, but I don't think about it. I'm alive and so is Delphine. "What the fuck happened?"

"You tripped over him and hit your head on the ground," Delphine responds as I approach her side.

"Him who?" I squint, but it doesn't help much. I can tell she's nodding toward the door, though. I turn to the hazard that knocked me out. There's a tall, slim mass on the floor, leaned back against the wall, two long legs sticking out in front of the door. "Dude, is that Leekie?"

"Nurse, can you find her glasses?" Delphine calls sweetly. I can hear a subtle scoff before he leaves the room.

"I thought he shot you…your monitor went dead…I…" I can't think of anything else to say.

"I got him first. He was probably aiming at my head, but he was already falling when he pulled the trigger. He missed and hit the machine," she explains. There's a tap on my shoulder and I turn to see a different nurse holding something in front of me. A familiar small black blob.

I shove my glasses back on my face, the right lens cracked and look at the heart monitor to see it's in pieces. It's so close. Leekie was only a foot or so away from killing her. I look back at him, much clearer now, slumped over by the door, blood soaking his shirt. "How did you…"

"Shot him," Delphine answers before I can finish. I glance back to her smiling face and see her pulling up her thin white blanket. There's a hole through the fabric, just to the side of her hip.

"How'd you get a fucking gun?" I sit on the side of her bed. It looks like the nurses have given up on my medical needs for the moment.

"Art gave me his gun before he went to man the hallway," Delphine sighs. I look back again, toward the door, but this time at the floor just outside. Two people are working on the bloody mess covering the floor. Beth and Art are both absent.

"Where'd–"

"Beth is going into surgery now and Art is being checked out in another room," she answers again before I can finish. I examine her face. It's tired, but she has a lazy smile that brings me comfort. She looks relieved.

"I thought you died. I was going to shoot Leekie myself," I feel guilty for some reason. If I had just gotten up sooner…

"Typical Cosima. Scheduled to arrive before I get shot at but shows up late and makes me finish the job myself," Delphine chuckles weakly. I try to smile back, but I'm taking her more seriously than I should be.

"I thought you died," I can only think to repeat myself. Hot tears start to burn their way down my face.

"Of course not," Delphine strokes my arm. "Not when there's a helpless living thing I'd be leaving behind. Something that would surely die without my love and attention".

"Helpless?" I snort. "Die without your love and attention?"

"Mhm," she hums, smiling at me. "My cactus can't water itself".

"You–"

"Cosima?" My threat is interrupted by the first nurse, the one who didn't seem to like me. "We need to get you checked out. C'mon, X-ray first," he nods toward my arm. I glance down at it, remembering the sharp pains it's still sending me. It's red and slightly swollen.

"Go," Delphine pushes me up off the bed. "I'm not leaving anytime soon". She winks and I give her a short peck before following the nurse.

* * *

"So, what's the prognosis?" Delphine smiles brightly as I make my way back into her room, showing off my new brace.

"Fractured wrist. Maybe a mild concussion. All good. No driving," I summarize, elated to see her again in a different room without a dead body in it. Within the two and a half hours I've been away, they've completely cleaned the area. There's no sign of a standoff, aside from the cops roaming the halls. "You know, it's too bad this all happened today instead of like a week ago. Just missed Halloween. This would've been a great gag".

"Halloween was a week ago?" she asks with an odd pitch.

"I mean, I little over a week, almost two, but yeah. Why?"

"What's today's date?" Delphine starts glancing around, looking for something to answer her question. I peek my head out the door and locate their white board. There's still a little jack-o-lantern taped to it.

"Uh, the twelfth," I return to her side.

She giggles like a crazy person. "Of course, it is".

"What?" I'm not sure if I'm confused because of my head trauma, or because she's going nuts.

"It's not the best birthday I've had. The most exciting, maybe," she shakes her head.

"_Dude_, it's totally your fucking birthday. I forgot it," I groan. "And first thing when you woke up after days of being unconscious, you get yourself into a gunfight. Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Delphine. I didn't even…uh…wait here," I order. She gives me a look. Yeah, yeah, she's not going anywhere.

I return from the gift shop and poke my head in her room. She's looking right at me with her arms crossed. Sauntering back to her side, I present her gift.

"A pink stuffed dog. How thoughtful," she takes it and looks the item over. "Happy Birthday Delphine…did you just write that on its belly?"

"Yeah, so I'd hold off on washing it for a while. It was in the newborn section – the closest thing to a birthday".

Delphine sighs tiredly and puts her arms around the dog. "You never told me what happened with you and Leekie".

"You had to go and get shot, so…" I shrug. She cocks her head, unsatisfied with the answer. "We talked, he said some stuff, then the cops showed up on account of you getting shot, and he was taken away. Got enough for a warrant. They tore his office apart while he was in custody. And he showed me something interesting – you'll never guess what's in those little vials in that fridge of his…"

"Please tell me it really is juice," Delphine chuckles, but her eyes are drooping. She must be on some heavy drugs.

"Nope," I smile. She shrugs, done with my suspenseful antics. "The cure…treatment…whatever".

"You got it?" Delphine's eyes open back up, wide.

"Yeah, I gave it to Scott a couple days ago and he made sure it wasn't actually just poison. Once he was, like, sixty percent sure it wasn't going to kill me, I got my first dose".

She sighs again, but this time with relief. "Any more good news?"

"Um…they found Kira almost immediately. She was in Leekie's trunk. They didn't even touch the GPS system before they heard her kicking around. And…Art and Beth are okay. Beth got out of surgery not too long ago. Looks good…And…yep, I think that's it".

"Ms. Niehaus? Where is Ms. Niehaus?" I hear that grumpy nurse call outside the door somewhere. I duck down behind Delphine's bed.

"Hello, Ms. Cormier, have you seen–"

"She's hiding right here," Delphine interrupts, giving me a snarky smile.

"Ms. Niehaus," he shouts. I get up and cross my arms like a child who was just ratted out by their best friend. "You were not supposed to leave your room. You need to stay put for now…"

"Dude give me a break. I thought I was in Clone Hell not too long ago, and I'm slightly jealous of a cactus. Look, I was just coming to wish my friend a happy birthday – even though she completely missed mine. I'll go," I roll my eyes and watch him hesitantly leave the room. I glare at Delphine for a quick moment before giving her a peck on the cheek. "By the way, happy birthday isn't the only note I wrote on that thing…take a gander at its ass," I inform, earning myself a glare from several nurses when I exit the room. Ugh, language.

I barely catch her response, maybe she wanted to miss it entirely, but I hear it anyways, "Ha, I love you, too".

* * *

"I want to do it today. Right now".

"Hm. Do you think they'll figure out it was us?"

"No way".

"What if we mess up and the whole thing explodes?"

"That'd be cool".

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah. Do it".

"Okay, here goes nothing…" I dump the last ingredient through the makeshift funnel, and both of us quickly crawl back.

The foamy eruption gushes out suddenly, making Kira yelp loudly with surprise and excitement.

"Cos, what are you two doing up there?" Sarah calls from downstairs. I put my finger over my lips, shushing Kira's giggles.

"Just making sure Kira's volcano works. Looks good," I shout back, using the side of the tub to pull myself up. Kira beats me to the door and flies down the stairs.

"Cosima, that's supposed to be for the science fair. I told Kira not to play with it," Sarah looks down at her daughter, only a slight bit of guilt showing through her beaming smile.

"Cosima, our flight leaves in less than an hour. We have to go," a different accent calls my name.

Delphine and I say our goodbyes and I give Kira a wink before the door closes behind us. The bathroom is probably covered in foam by now. I may or may not have doubled all the ingredients…

The cab ride is short, and we don't talk the entire way. I'm trying to keep the giggles to myself and Delphine is probably still recovering from the family visit. She promises she'll get used to it, but it may take a while. Decades, maybe. I guess Christmas is a little more stressful anyways.

She sleeps on the plane, but I'm still wired.

We take another cab back to my place, where her car is still parked. I actually have mail. I check regularly, but rarely does something come through other than bills.

"Easter too?" Delphine finally speaks as we climb the stairs to my floor.

"You don't have to come," I smile, knowing she will anyways.

"What's that?" she nods to the thick envelope I'm examining.

"Dunno. It's from Art," I hand her the key and she unlocks my apartment while I tear open the envelope.

"Just Art? Not Art and Beth?" We go through our regular routine. Hang up our coats, keys and phones on the little table by the door, shoes off, and sit ourselves on our respective couch cushions.

I laugh when I see the contents of the delivery. "Never should'a doubted him," I comment without letting Delphine see. "Took him long enough, though".

"What, Cosima? What is it?" Delphine crosses her arms, pouting.

"Christmas gift, I guess. He promised me one of these after all the shit went down," I smile, holding up the fat, impeccably rolled joint.

"Oh, God," she rolls her eyes and scoffs.

"C'mon," I throw everything else on the coffee table and grab the nearest lighter. "I'm getting you baked".

"This is peer pressure, is it not?" she complains, but I can see the curiosity hiding in her expression as she eyes it. It's not like she's never been high. She's had a whole handful of edibles with me before.

"It's happening, Cormier. Here," I stick the joint between her lips and light it.

* * *

"Are you sure you were even sick from the thing and it wasn't just your lifestyle?" Delphine drawls, her accent becoming thicker and thicker. "I mean, smoking since you were fourteen…that's…"

I turn to her on the bed and let her have the last hit. "How long have you been smoking cigarettes. Dude, how old were you when you had your first drink?"

"Wine isn't really a 'drink'. And I can't remember my first cigarette," she hands the joint back to me and I snuff it out in the ashtray next to my alarm clock.

"Mm," is all I can think to answer. "Wanna have sex?"

She doesn't even look at me, just drags her gaze around the room for a while before answering, "Yeah".

It's still sore, but my wrist is healed enough for me to roll myself over and hover above her on my knees and forearms. Her injuries will take a lot longer to recover from, so she's stuck on bottom. I get the feeling that, when she does feel well again, she'll be pretty dominating.

I kiss her slowly – at least I think it's slowly – and she almost immediately slides her tongue across my lip. Of course, the Frenchness. Or maybe just the Delphine-ness.

I don't know why but being high tends to make me skip over foreplay. My hand goes straight to her button and zipper. I let my lips travel to her neck while my fingers slide through the abundant lubrication. Admittedly, this is so that she has no way to block the noises she makes. I love hearing them, especially since my walls are thick, and it's just Tyler next door.

Her hand makes its way past the elastic of my sweats, too. She is amazing at multitasking. There's still a slight pause in her fingers whenever a moan escapes her, but it doesn't last long. We've only had sex a few times in the last week, barely making it to the six-week threshold of medically advised celibacy. It's been amazing every time. She rarely sleeps at her apartment anymore.

She grabs onto my arm and I feel the clenching around my fingers. Her hand is immobilized, so I grind against it, aiming for a simultaneous orgasm. Her typical whimper comes just before my typical breathy moan. I catch my breath briefly before gracefully plopping back down next to her.

"I love you," it comes out, again.

"You don't have to say that every time we have sex, Cosima," she giggles.

I sigh, politely disagreeing. "Hungry?"

"Tired".

"Sleep here?" I already know the answer. She always sleeps here. I still like to ask.

"If you insist," she closes her eyes, not quite asleep, but not fully functioning. It's kind of how she looks in the morning when she's pretending to be sleeping. I do love her. A lot.

"Hey," I feel nervous, even in my relaxed condition.

"Hm?" She doesn't open her eyes.

"I've been meaning to ask…" I start, hoping she'll pay attention, but she doesn't move. "Do you want to move in with me?"

At this, she finally opens her eyes and turns her head to look at me. She smiles, only slightly, and waits for a dramatic amount of time to answer. "Yeah".

I should ask her for things when she's high more often. "Okay. Cool. Don't forget your cactus".

I feel her hand grasp mine, interlacing our fingers. It's a calming sensation that always brings me down a bit. She closes her eyes again so I do, too.

* * *

C'est tout

La fin


End file.
